Better Dig Two
by Kittenshift17
Summary: Hermione never expected she'd fall pregnant with a lovechild fathered by a mystery man to get back at Ron for cheating. Her drunken revenge leads to the birth of her son. 5 years later she is confronted by Draco Malfoy with a photo she thinks is of her son. Things get complicated when he tells her it's not.
1. 1: A Terrible Love

**A/N: Hello my darlings. Another new Dramione from me, I know. I'm wretched for not finishing them all before starting new ones. I just can't help it. This fic was inspired by a challenge issued by a friend, called the "Take a Cliche" challenge. Where I was given a cliched topic/trope and told to run with it and make it fun. My prompt was regarding the idea of a character having a lovechild. I do hope you like the story. **

**WARNINGS: This fic contains mentions of child-bearing, infidelity, divorce, scenes of a sexual nature, some cliches and a good deal of angsty romantic goodness. It also contains pairings of Draco/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny and a number of other side pairings. If you don't like those things, you won't like this story. **

**Don't forget to drop me a review with your thoughts! Much love! xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Better Dig Two**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 1: A Terrible Love**

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Hermione Granger stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the man she knew to be Ron Weasley where he stood in a secluded alcove with a woman, not herself, plastered against him most inappropriately. The masquerade theme of the evening ball did nothing to hide the identity of her long-term boyfriend, though it effectively hid that of his current consort. Ron's splash of vivid red-hair was recognisable anywhere and Hermione felt the sting of betrayal sear through her veins with more intensity than dragon-fire.

Utterly horrified by the scene, Hermione fled before she could be spotted by the snogging couple, refusing to even consider the idea of letting Ron's betrayal ruin the entire evening for the rest of her graduating classmates. She didn't want the shame of another night spent dealing with his moods and his petty arguments should she confront him about this incident now. Tears trickled from her eyes, soaking her cheeks and causing her own masquerade mask to shift uncomfortably on her wet face.

Unable to face her classmates or the idea of running into Harry or Ginny and needing to explain the situation to either of them, knowing they would spot her tears and guess the reason for them, Hermione retreated to the one place she knew she wouldn't be found by any of her friends.

The Room of Requirement welcomed her with a collection of tissue boxes and a comfortable chair by a fireplace, and Hermione found herself emitting a bitter chuckle in spite of her fury and her heartache. She didn't know why she was surprised. It wasn't as though this was the first time Ron had been unfaithful to her. She knew that the distance between them while she'd completed the final year of her studies and he'd gone into Auror training with Harry had been a strain on their relationship.

She knew he'd dabbled with other women.

And yet here she was, furious and sobbing over the notion of him doing so again. Hermione clenched her fists, tossing her used tissues into the crackling fireplace as she got to her feet and began pacing furiously. She didn't know if she was more furious with Ron for what he was doing, or with herself for constantly putting up with his behaviour. It was one thing after all, to forgive him for a mistake he'd made one night with far too much alcohol and fresh sorrow coursing through him to have even intended to hurt her this way. It was entirely another to continue putting up with the same mistake occurring again and again.

The most insulting factor of the entire thing was that Hermione had been faithful to the bastard for all the time she'd dated him. Even during their year of separation when comfort in the arms of another willing body had been offered, Hermione had been faithful. She'd never strayed from him. She'd loved him more than anything else in the entire world and she'd forgiven him each of his misdemeanours.

She'd even blamed herself. After all, if she hadn't been away at Hogwarts when he needed her then he wouldn't have had to find solace in the arms of another woman. But that excuse was no longer going to cut it. He'd come to the ball with her, on her invitation. It was her sodding graduation and supposed to be a happy night of celebration shared with friends and peers as she moved onto the next step in her life, celebrating all that she had achieved thus far.

Ron didn't have the excuse of not having Hermione on hand to assist him with his desires. She'd been right there next to him all evening until she'd accompanied Ginny to the bathroom, only to return later and find him plastered against some brainless bimbo who ought to have known better. The entire wizarding world knew that she and Ron were an item and had been since the end of the war. They were constantly in the papers and in _Witch Weekly's_ gossips columns for their misdemeanours, their latest fashion choices, their romantic life.

Being part of the dubbed 'Golden Trio' that had been such huge contributors to bringing down Voldemort and the Death Eaters had earned Hermione and Ron a place inside the book of fame right alongside Harry. These days their exploits were constantly published in the tabloids. Harry loathed it, of course, but Hermione knew that Ron was rather pleased to have finally distinguished himself from his brothers and made a name for himself. He lapped up the attention like a hungry puppy. Hermione herself rather disliked constantly being written about. She received fan mail and hate mail for many of the things she did or didn't r didn't do.

Merlin, even when she didn't do things, the journalists just made wild things up, spicing up her life in an entirely fictional, yet extremely annoying way. And unfortunately Rita Skeeter was no longer the only woman making up lies about her. She had little choice but to put up with it, actually. After all, she couldn't capture them all for the annoying little gnats they were and threaten to drown them all in their jam jar prisons.

When the bottle of fire-whiskey appeared on the table beside the couch where she'd been sitting, Hermione reached for it automatically. She ignored the glass that materialised beside it in favour of swigging the liquid straight from the bottle. She coughed only a little at the burn in her throat as she took long gulps, attempting to numb her pain and her fury. Gods, she needed more to drink. She needed to be numb.

This heartache was too much and it made her feel positively sick to her stomach. She knew she wasn't the most elegant or the most beautiful witch in the wizarding world, but was it really so hard for Ron to keep in in his pants? Was there something wrong with her that meant he wanted others? She'd thought after he'd walked out on them during the Horcrux hunt – after he'd abandoned them – that he'd learned his lesson. That his mettle had been tested and he'd come back stronger for it. Now it seemed like it was being tested again, and this time it was Hermione who was breaking apart.

Why did it always seem to her that she paid the price of heartache for all of Ron's stupid choices? Why did she have to suffer for his stupidity? It wasn't as though she didn't put out for him. It wasn't as though he were straying because she was a virgin and too frigid to give him what he wanted to needed. She admittedly had been away at school most of the year, but she'd still shagged him when she saw him. Yet here he was, with her right in the very same castle as him and more than willing to sleep with him, yet he was more interested in rutting whichever little trollop had batted her eyes at the famous Ron Weasley and flirted enough to flatter his enormous ego.

Even though his long-term girlfriend was in the same bloody castle!

She'd had enough, confound it all!

She'd had it with Ron cheating on her and being such a faithless bastard while she remained so loyal to him. She loved him too much to leave him, but Ronald Weasley was going to get a taste of his own medicine.

"Fancy finding this place occupied on a night like this," a low, masculine voice spoke from the shadows and Hermione marvelled at the efficiency of the Room of Requirement. She had only just been thinking that she would need to find a man to commit her infidelity with, and lo and behold, one had appeared. She blamed the fire-whiskey entirely for not thinking beyond being provided what she required. She'd had more than half the bottle by now.

"And what might you be doing here?" she asked, her voice husky from the amount of whiskey she'd consumed and the titillating feeling of even considering cheating on Ron and giving him a taste of his own bitter medicine.

"Well I was intending to escape the gyrating masses, if you must know, and planning to bid this place farewell," the man spoke from the shadows again, still not revealing himself just yet.

"Would you care for a drink to go with that?" Hermione heard herself ask, her eyes fixed on the form silhouetted against the gloom of the room.

The mystery man's identity was well hidden by his mask. The lower half was white and concealed most of his face, the upper half bore some rather tasteful horns and a mess of fake black hair, effectively hiding his own hair and notable features rather splendidly. She could honestly say there wasn't a single thing about him that even hinted at his identity and he certainly wasn't someone she recognised. Not with the mask on his face. Hermione knew that her own mask hid her identity rather well too. She'd chosen an elaborate mask of silver, one half designed in the shape of a butterflies wings and engraved with swirls and patterns.

She had tamed her hair with a hot iron, flattening the unruly curls into long sleek strands before charming it all into an elaborate up-do. All evening folks had been guessing at her identity, unable to tell it was even her. She'd been very much enjoying the anonymity of it all as well, for once not being constantly hounded by reporters with their cameras or questions from vicious gossips looking for a scoop to sell to the papers.

"That might be rather pleasant, I suppose," the man murmured in a way that seemed almost sultry to Hermione and as he stepped closer, moving out of the shadows and allowing himself to be illuminated by the glow of the firelight, Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. She couldn't tell simply by looking at him who he might be, and her mind was too fuzzy from the drink to properly care about who he was.

Instead she was focused on his slim yet wiry build and the way a wicked smirk arranged itself upon his lips beneath his mask. His eyes glowed like molten silver as the firelight danced in them and Hermione found herself returning the heated look he gave with one of her own. Whoever he was, he was fit and he was handsome.

"You're a student here then, graduating and about to step out into the world?" Hermione asked him as she reached for a glass and poured him a liberal drink.

"What gave me away?" he asked, his voice causing Hermione to quiver. It practically dripped lust and seduction and Hermione wondered if there was something more to the whiskey or perhaps the room than met the eye, causing both of them to be so startlingly attracted to one another.

She'd certainly never felt so instantly attracted to any of her classmates. Not that she could recall, anyway. And if he were a graduating student then there could be no doubt that she knew him. She'd probably spent a number of days or weeks talking to him, interacting with him and otherwise sharing the castle with him, yet as she eyed him hungrily, she couldn't put her finger on who he might possibly be.

"You mentioned the urge to bid farewell to this place," Hermione informed him, deciding she ought to try and project a little more class than continuing to swig from the bottle and choosing to use a glass like he did.

"I did indeed," the unknown man murmured, looking intrigued by her attention to detail, "And you? Are you among the graduating class or a guest who simply happens to know of this room's existence?"

"I'm also graduating," Hermione replied with a coy smile, enjoying the anonymity of not knowing who he was and being unknown to him herself. It was a refreshing change in the aftermath of the War. She'd never enjoyed the spotlight the way Ron had and she rather liked the feeling of not being known as the bushy-haired know-it-all who had been a member of the famous Golden Trio. It also meant this was less likely to get back to the papers because her mystery man wouldn't know who she was to share the juicy details of their impending encounter.

"You were upset when you entered the room?" he queried quietly, sipping his whiskey with an air of someone who was used to the flavour and an elegance that belied a practiced ease. Whoever he was, he clearly was used to spending his evening drinking fine whiskey. Hermione kind of liked that.

"I was," Hermione agreed, her eyes narrowing at the reminder of Ron's betrayal. She didn't want to think about that now. She wanted to think about how gleeful and glorious it would be to betray Ron as he'd betrayed her. She also wanted to think about what this handsome and wiry wizard had going on underneath those fine robes he was currently clad in.

"I don't suppose you'd care to share the details?" he asked and Hermione found herself grinning a little.

"I'd prefer to forget them, actually. I'm sure that you could assist me in that venture?" she told him, her eyes travelling over his black-clad form indicatively.

That wicked smirk returned to his lips and Hermione found herself staring at them hungrily. She'd never felt so attracted to anyone in her life as she did in that moment to this mystery man.

"I could indeed. I could make you forget your own name, if you'd like. And what a send-off from this place that might make," he purred to her, causing Hermione's body to hum with desire. Before she could think any further, or even consider the reasons that this might be a bad idea or that she didn't even know the name of the man advancing on her, he stepped close. His free hand came up to rest lightly on the exposed nape of her neck and Hermione found herself tilting her head back to hold his intense gaze. When his eyes asked permission for him to come even closer, Hermione felt a heated smile spread across her face and she went up on her toes until her lips met his descending pair.

The touch was like an explosion through her system and one kiss was all it took for Hermione to be completely lost to the rush of emotions that coursed through her, overcoming her sense and her shyness and even her dignity. The fire-whiskey in her blood boiled through her, making her even hotter and his touch was like an electric shock to every sense she owned. Sweet merlin, but the man could _kiss_!

Giving herself over to the sensation of his mouth on hers and his hands on her body, Hermione simply allowed herself to feel. She closed off her mind, closed off her emotions and her frustration with Ron. Closed off everything that usually weighed on her shoulders and chose to just feel. To feel the smooth, sexy caress of his tongue against her own. To enjoy the way he hooked one long, cool finger into the cleavage of her dress until the front ties began to unwind. To revel in the feel of indulging in every forbidden fantasy she'd never allowed herself to experience or even dwell on.

Instead Hermione chose to give in completely.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~

When it was over, Hermione found herself lying beside her mystery partner on a conveniently soft rug before the still crackling fire. Both of them still wore their masks, never once revealing their identity to one another and Hermione found the mystery to be seductive and titillating. It felt good to know that all the depraved things the two of them had just done to one another would not call for the blushing of cheeks and the biting of lips in regret or guilt upon coming into contact with one another ever again.

She didn't ask him his name, didn't even speak to him in fact. She simply lay there for a few long moments as she tried to catch her breath, enjoying the lazy way he trailed his fingers up and down her bare spine. He did it in such a way that he seemed intrigued by her and simply couldn't resist continuing to touch her. His touch was light – exquisite in fact – and Hermione felt sure she could almost drop right off to sleep if he would just keep doing that.

"I'd have had a lot more fun in this place if I'd spent more time indulging in this particular extra-curricular activity like that," he joked softly, his voice still husky and somehow still eliciting a smattering of goose-pimples from her. Goddess, even his voice was seductive and designed for pleasure.

And there could be no doubt that he knew how to provide pleasure.

"I was thinking exactly the same thing," Hermione murmured. She'd never felt so satisfied and content in all her life and as she lay there she wondered why she'd wasted so much time putting off having sex for the likes of Ron when she could instead be enjoying it with anybody else who struck her fancy. It was clear that it was delightful. She was also painfully aware of the fact that her mystery man was far better at the activity than Ron was. She might've pulled something, in fact.

"You're not going to tell me who you are, are you?" he murmured a little while later as he trailed a line of kisses across her bare shoulder and along the length of her spine, seeming uninterested in the idea of simply getting up and wandering off now that he was done with her.

"No," Hermione murmured, "I'm not going to tell you who I am. I'm also not going to ask you for your identity. Anonymity is a privilege I'd like to enjoy a while longer."

The conversation dropped off when Hermione realised that he wasn't done with her just yet, something he demonstrated as his hands trailed over her flesh and began to stir more sexual desire within her. She wasn't even sure she was up to another round after that first one, and yet she felt a smile creep across her face anyway. Rolling to her back, Hermione reached up and pulled him down on top of her for another of those scorching kisses he so skilfully delivered.

"Do me a favour?" she asked breathlessly when they broke apart, his weight on top of her a delicious and welcome sensation.

He raised one eyebrow beneath his mask and Hermione grinned at him naughtily.

"Leave some marks on my skin," she requested, liking the idea of leaving evidence of this night, of this man and this moment on her skin. Liking the idea of having Ron know what she'd done.

"You don't have anyone to hide them from?" he murmured curiously and Hermione simply grinned wider. The knowing smirk she got in return made her wonder if this mystery man knew that she was wilfully and enthusiastically being unfaithful, with the intention of being caught.

"Anything to oblige the lady," he purred in her ear before his lips set to work on the flesh of her neck, drawing blood to the surface again and again in a way that was so entirely seductive Hermione could barely stand it. She was unable to resist returning the favour, leaving several love-bites on his neck and shoulders along with some claw marks down his back.

She didn't rightly know how long she spent there in the Room of Requirement with her mystery man. She lost track of time, indeed of all reality, in his pleasurable presence and beneath his tantalizing touch. All Hermione knew was that it was a night she would never forget.

Fate wouldn't let her.


	2. 2: Beautiful Disaster

**Chapter 2 – Beautiful Disaster**

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Hermione was at the end of her strength when with one final, laboured push her son came into the world and began to scream. Slumping back against the pillows, Hermione momentarily ignored the urging of the midwives for her to try one last push to deal with all the placenta and other now unwanted gunk that had kept her son alive for the past nine months as he grew within her.

"Is he normal?" she whispered tiredly, her eyes fixed on the squalling bundle one of the healers clutched, trying to clean and dry the baby before handing him to his mother.

"He's perfect, Hermione," Ginny Weasley commented, holding her hand and peering at the child just as Hermione was.

Hermione smiled gratefully at her sister-in-law for the words she didn't have to say. Hermione and Ron had married when Hermione had learned she was pregnant in the months following the Graduation Ball when she'd been unfaithful to Ron. She didn't rightly know why she had married him, outside of the fact that for all his infidelities, she'd loved him. Ron knew the baby Hermione had just laboured to bring into the world wasn't biologically his.

She'd been vicious when she rubbed salt in the festering wound their relationship had become the evening of her own ventures in the arms of another. Ron knew the child wasn't biologically his son, but for all their past issues and despite the row they'd had when Hermione told him what she'd done, it seemed to have helped. Not once since the day she informed him of her own unfaithfulness had Ron strayed from her. His head had deflated greatly in the aftermath of the war and Hermione put it down to the fact that she'd been ready to leave him.

She'd confronted him furiously with his own indiscretion that evening before gleefully bragging about her own and it seemed to have been just what their relationship needed. Ron seemed to have required the knowledge that if he didn't stop being such a faithless bastard she would walk right out of his life. She suspected that in the beginning it had been more for fear of losing face over the torrid affairs Hermione had threatened she'd like to pursue with men she didn't even know, but nonetheless it had worked.

Ron had wised up. They'd chosen to both put their previous indiscretions to rest and forgive each other. Three months later when Hermione had learned she was pregnant, Ron had asked her if she thought the child was his. And Hermione had known without a doubt that it wasn't. She and Ron had always been careful with their contraception. However the night spent with her mystery man had been fraught with too much alcohol and emotional outpouring to recall the necessity of such precautions.

She'd admitted that she thought it was the child of the man she'd been with and Ron had looked momentarily devastated. Hermione had feared then that he would leave her. That he would refuse to raise another man's son, especially a man who Hermione couldn't even identify if she walked right by him on the street. She'd expected him to fly into a rage and leave her for good.

She'd never expected him to silently leave the room and return with an engagement ring, dropping to one knee and asking her to be his wife. When she'd questioned his logic all Ron had been able to tell her was that if it hadn't been for his own thoughtlessness and his own abrasive actions, she'd never had turned to another and by that reasoning the child was as much his responsibility as hers.

They'd been married within the month before she could really start to show, and in truth, despite the hard pregnancy, Hermione didn't think they'd ever been happier. Ron seemed content.

"Can I hold him now?" Hermione asked the healer as the woman returned with the fussing newborn in her arms.

"We've just tested his health and he's perfect, Hermione," the healer assured the young mother as she laid the baby boy in Hermione's arms.

Hermione had heard a hundred times about the magical bond that formed between a mother and her children, but she'd never expected it to be so sudden and so all-consuming. The moment the baby laid against her breast he ceased his fussing and blinked tiny grey eyes at her. Hermione recognised those eyes. She'd stared into them the evening her son had been conceived and she knew they were his father's eyes. The love she felt for the child swelled within her, taking her breath away and filling a hole in her heart she hadn't even known existed.

"Oh Hermione, he's darling," Ginny cooed from beside her, peering at the swaddled little boy with longing in her eyes. She and Harry were due to be wed next month and already Ginny was pining for children of her own.

"He is, isn't he?" Hermione smiled softly at the little boy, feeling her happiness grow when the little boy blinked his eyes at her and opened his mouth to show her a gummy smile in return.

"He's a bright boy, that one," one of the healers looking on commented, "Optical tracking like that usually takes a week or so."

"Of course he's bright," Ron's voice came from the doorway where he was leaning, looking at his wife with pride, "He's is mother's son."

Hermione smiled at her husband, catching the look of love in his blue eyes as he stared at her. She sometimes wondered what it was about her being his wife and a mother that had settled Ron, but she saw it every time he looked at her. He adored her. That much was clear. He might've made some mistakes in the past, and at times Hermione questioned her sanity to have forgiven him for them, but she supposed in the long run there were more important things.

Their youth had been spent fighting a war before they even realised they were doing so. It had been spent with just the three of them and Hermione knew that since the war had been won they'd both needed time to find themselves not as part of the Golden Trio - as the papers had taken to calling them - but as simply being their own people. Hermione had needed it. She'd needed to find out exactly who Hermione Granger was when she wasn't being the brainy sidekick of Harry Potter. She'd needed to find out what it was like to be with a man who wasn't Ron. She'd needed to learn how it felt to exist without Harry and Ron at her side, as she had done when she'd returned to Hogwarts to complete her final year while they'd joined the Auror program.

She'd even needed to take the trip to Australia to locate her parents and restore their memories before bringing them home. She didn't think it had been so much about the idea of growing up as simply maturing. As discovering who she was as a person. She'd not really put so much thought into it before then. She'd thought she was content and happy with her life and who she was. She hadn't realised there was a whole other world out there to be explored where she could be anything she wanted to be.

As she stared tiredly into the face of her young son, Hermione realised she'd needed to become the mother of a child whose father she wouldn't even recognise if he walked up and kissed her. There was something about motherhood and about how she already adored the child in her arms that told her this little boy was her greatest achievement.

"What are you going to name him, Hermione?" Ginny asked, still looking longingly at the tiny little boy.

"Etamin," Hermione whispered tiredly, unsure why she liked that name so much but recalling it was one of the brightest stars in the sky, "Etamin Antares Granger-Weasley."

Hermione chose to ignore the startled and mildly concerned expression her husband and her sister-in-law shared at her choice of such an unusual name. She didn't care if they thought it was strange. To her it felt right. And he was her son. She was almost being generous allowing the Weasley name to be tacked on the end.

~O~O~O~O~O~

In the years that followed Hermione had never been happier than when she was a mother. Etamin was a delightful child and Hermione loved that he took after her in so many ways. By the time he was five she had already fostered a deep and abiding love within him for reading, and he was already alarmingly intelligent. Often Hermione found herself wondering if his other traits were carryovers from the biological father he never knew.

He had a love for Quidditch that rivalled that of Harry and even Ronald. He also had a penchant for creativity that she knew neither she nor Ron had ever really exhibited. She often found him perched on the stool before the piano she'd inherited from her grandmother, plucking away at the keys to some tune inside his head. Always the same song, one Hermione didn't recognise as coming from anywhere other than within him.

He had a knack for drawing and was incredibly witty when it came to making up little songs to taunt his cousins. James and Albus could often be found playing with Etamin, all of them chanting some kind of nonsense at their other cousins on Quidditch days and whenever the three of them got the better of the others. Hermione expected that whoever his biological father might be, he was creative, witty and perhaps rather cruel at times. More than once she'd had to scold her son for being so sharp-tongued when he said things that were biting and mean to his cousins.

As he grew, Hermione knew that some of the others within the Weasley clan had begun to speculate that he might not truly be Ron's child. They never did so within Hermione's earshot of course, but she knew they doubted Ron was Etamin's biological father. It was much too obvious to Hermione that he was not.

He took after neither of his supposed parents in appearance. Beyond his intelligence, he looked nothing like Hermione herself, expect perhaps for the shape of his nose when he crinkled it as he laughed. He looked absolutely nothing like Ron. The signature Weasley red shade of hair was absent. He didn't have her hair either. Etamin's hair was thick, yet incredibly fine and so blonde that if not for the shine of youth and health Hermione would describe it as white. His intelligent grey eyes were nothing like Ron's blue pair or her own brown set.

Where his Weasley cousins were already gangly and goofy looking at times, Etamin was nothing like them. He was wiry and tall, yet he always seemed properly proportioned. He got away with it most of the time because he spent much of his time playing with James and Ablus, both of whom took after Harry's messy black hair, emerald eyes and skinniness.

"Mother?" Etamin asked her suddenly, drawing Hermione out of her speculation over the difference between her son and the Weasely children.

"Yes darling?" Hermione replied, unable to keep from smiling at him. She utterly adored the boy. So much so that she'd been putting off having any other children because she feared she wouldn't love them as much as she loved Etamin.

"Are you ready?" he asked, blinking at her seriously, "You said you would take me with you to Diagon Alley today."

"Oh… yes, I did, didn't I?" Hermione said, jolting to realise she had promised him just that and yet here she was sitting at the kitchen table and thinking about how different he was to the other children of this family.

"So are you ready?" Etamin asked, "I want to go to Wheezers and you promised we could stop by Flourish and Blotts for some new books."

"I know I did, darling," Hermione said smiling at him.

"Well…. You're not going in your dressing gown, are you Mum?" Etamin asked her and Hermione glanced down to see she was indeed still wearing her dressing gown and her house slippers. Her hair was undoubtedly a mess too.

"Would you be embarrassed to go with me if I did?" Hermione teased him.

"I could never be embarrassed by you, Mum," Etmain assured her with far more maturity than any five year old had a right to.

"You're the love of my life, you know?" Hermione told him, beaming at her child.

"I thought Dad was?" Etamin asked, frowning a little.

"No. Dad's my beloved husband. You're my heart and soul darling," Hermione smiled at him. She didn't want to lie to him.

Things with Ron had been a little rocky lately. He was craving children of his own. Biologically. He counted Etamin as his, but every now and then Hermione would catch Ron watching Etamin do something so totally un-Weasley that she could tell he was beginning to see the differences and that they bothered him.

"Is that why I don't have siblings?" Etamin asked her softly. He'd been begging for siblings since he was three when Albus had been born. He wanted a little brother of his own almost as fervently as Ron wanted a biological son of his own and Hermione had been putting it off. She and Ron had argued about it just last night, in fact.

"How could I love anyone as much as I love you, sweetheart?" Hermione asked, getting to her feet and scooping her son up to prop him on her hip.

"Gram said a mother's love is unconditional for all her children and that each one was her heart and soul," Etamin told her, quoting Mrs Wealsey with ease.

"Gram never had a child like you," Hermione told her son softly. She didn't know why she was so reluctant to have children with Ron. They'd been married five years, after all. She wasn't getting any younger, not that she was by any means old. Yet something held her back. Maybe it was simply the fear that any other children would pale in comparison to Etamin. Maybe it was fear that if she had Ron's children they would be typically Weasley and give away the even more obvious differences that Etamin wasn't Ron's.

Maybe it was reluctance to tie herself to Ron in that way. She might've forgiven him his misdemeanours in the past, but she didn't trust that he wouldn't relapse. She feared the day he would decide she wasn't enough for him again and she didn't want to deal with the mess of having biological children with him. As it was, if things went sideways with Ron she and Etamin would simply walk away.

Only she, Ron, and the Healer who'd delivered Etamin knew the truth, which was that Ron wasn't the boy's father. The father's information on his birth certificate was blank.

"Don't you want any more kids like me?" Etamin asked softly, looking like he might be offended.

"Etamin," Hermione said seriously, looking into his handsome little face, "I love you more than anything else in the world. I've been reluctant to have any more children because I'm afraid I wouldn't love them as much as I love you. I'm afraid I would compare them to you and find them lacking. Do you want to inflict that on a brother or sister? Do you want to be responsible for the fact that they wouldn't be loved as much as you?"

"No, Mother," he answered solemnly, "That would be unfair to them…. But I still want a sibling."

"I know sweetheart," Hermione sighed, "Why don't you run upstairs and put your shoes on while I get changed so we can go to Diagon Alley, alright?"

Etamin nodded, racing off up the stairs to do as he was told while Hermione followed at a more sedate pace. When she reached her room she changed quickly into some flattering green robes, being sure to wrap her favourite winter coat about herself. She supposed they would stop in on Ron while he was at work, since she had promised she would take Etamin to the Weasley Wizard Wheezer's store where Ron worked with George.

Angelina would probably be there with Fred junior and Roxanne, and the woman had been nagging Hermione for months about getting their kids to play together more often. Fred and Roxy were a year younger than Etamin and Angelina was always looking for chances to get the twins to spend time with other children besides each other. They were already little trouble makers too, so Hermione imagined Angelina wanted to make sure they didn't grow to be a co-dependant as Fred and George had been.

"Are you ready Mum?" Etamin asked, running into her bedroom to jump up on the bed Hermione shared with Ron every night, "Oh, you look nice."

Hermione glanced down at herself before looking over at her son.

"Thank you," she smiled, "I feel like a mess."

"But you look pretty when you're a mess, Mum," Etamin told her, "When you get all tidy for work days you don't look as pretty as you do today."

"Is that right?" Hermione asked, propping her hands on her hips whilst trying to hide her smile.

Etamin nodded solemnly.

"I like it best when you look comfortable and happy. You don't look comfortable when you have work. You look… severe."

Hermione marvelled at the perceptiveness of her child.

"I'm supposed to look severe on work days sweetheart," Hermione told him, "Otherwise those vampire who come in would think I was easily ruffled and try to push my buttons."

"But you don't ruffle," Etamin said, looking quizzical, "Even when your hair is all messy and you're stomping about the house arguing with Dad, you don't get ruffled. You just…. Stomp."

Hermione laughed.

"I take it you heard me and Dad fighting last night then?" Hermione asked. She'd never been one to hide things from her son, not because she didn't think he needed to remain innocent, but because some things were just a fact of life. He was far too mature for his five years as it was and certainly far too clever, to bother with fibbing to him. She understood of course that some things ought to be kept from him for his own protection until he was older, but that she and Ron sometimes had arguments was not one them.

"Of course I did. Dad was shouting," Etamin rolled his eyes, "Why didn't you tell him what you told me about giving me siblings?"

Hermione bit her lip, her hands fidgeting with where to put her wand whilst wearing her robes.

"I think Daddy would be hurt if I told him that, sweetheart," Hermione admitted.

"Why?" Etamin asked, "There's nothing wrong with being afraid you won't love another child as much as me. It would be like me getting a second cat. I love Orval too much to get a second cat. I wouldn't play with two as much as I do with one."

"Yes, but you're not a cat," Hermione pointed out, "And any siblings you have won't be cats."

"No, but it's the same principle," Etamin told her and Hermione's mind boggled to know that her five year old son could understand something her twenty four year old husband couldn't.

"But Dad would be upset sweetheart. He would see such an admittance as a failure on my part," Hermione explained.

"But why? Not everyone is capable of loving equally," Etamin said and Hermione wondered what kind of tiny genius she had birthed. He was five. How did he possibly understand the complexities of love?

"What makes you think that Etamin?" Hermione asked him, wondering at her own sanity to be having a philosophical debate with her five year old.

"Well, Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry don't love James and Albus the same way. They love them, but in different ways," Etamin said, "Aunt Ginny is like Gram. She bosses them and she fusses at them not to get dirty or run in the house or throw the quaffle across the dinner table. Uncle Harry ruffles their hair and tells them he loves them. He loves that they're naughty and that they drive Aunt Ginny batty. He shows his love by playing with them. She shows her love by cautioning them to be careful."

"But do you think that makes their love unequal?" Hermione asked him, wrinkling her brow a little.

"Not necessarily. They both love the boys. They just express it in different ways. You and Dad do too. I know you love me because you tell me often and you always talk to me about things like this. Dad only talks about Quidditch and gives me those stiff handshakes when he's proud of me for something," Etamin told her and Hermione marvelled at his ability to sound entirely rational and not at all bitter about it.

"Does that upset you?" Hermione asked him, frowning now.

"No," Etamin admitted, shrugging his shoulders and causing his soft blonde fringe to fall into his eyes, "I know it's why Dad wants me to have siblings and you don't. He has love left over for others and you don't. You pour all your love into me."

"What makes you so sure of that?" she asked, scooping him up into her arms and propping him on her hip.

"Of you loving me? Or of Dad being more reserved?" Etamin clarified.

"Both," Hermione grinned, tapping the end of his nose with her fingertips and peering into his intelligent grey eyes.

"I don't know," Etamin admitted, "With Dad I just feel like there's something there. Something that prevents him from loving me as much as you do. With you I have no doubt. You'd give me the moon if I wanted it."

"And you don't think Dad would?"

"No," Etamin said, "He'd tell me something about how the moon would be too big to fit in my bedroom."

Hermione chuckled at his suggestion, though inside she wondered if Ron had been less than affectionate as a father. She didn't think he had been. And yet, her son had noticed. That reservation he'd picked up on from Ron was undoubtedly the fact that Etamin wasn't Ron's son. He might not know that, but he'd certainly sensed that something was off.

"Are you excited to go to Diagon Alley?" Hermione asked, changing the subject.

"Yes. Can I have a new book? I've finished all mine and there's a new one in the series out."

"Of course you can. What's it called?" Hermione asked, carrying him downstairs and over to the fireplace, intending to Floo into the back room of the Leaky Cauldron.

"Raiders of the Lost Ark," Etamin told her, clearly forgetting all about their discussion as he launched into the wild tale about the pirates in the books he was reading.


	3. 3: Makes Me Wonder

**Better Dig Two**

 **Chapter 3 – Makes Me Wonder**

* * *

Draco Malfoy found himself in Diagon Alley feeling utterly bored. He'd come along at the insistence of his mother that he didn't get out enough anymore except on dates with boring witches. His mother had been complaining about his habit of buying them dinner and charming them into bed with him. In fact she'd been grumbling at him about it all bloody morning and he was running out of patience with her.

He'd been made all too aware that she was displeased with the fact that he was still single when so many of his peers – so many of her friend's children – were settling into marriages and beginning to have children.

"I just want to see you happy, darling," Narcissa Malfoy told him, clearly trying to sound innocent and like she wasn't nagging him. She was currently inside the change room of Madam Malkin's, trying on an exorbitant amount of robes for the upcoming season of parties and events she'd be attending this year.

She'd been working tirelessly to drag the Malfoy name back into the good books of the wizarding elite, with moderate success in the aftermath of the war and he was assured that meant she needed new robes to better achieve it. He was told it demonstrated their extraordinary amount of money and class. Mostly he just knew his mother liked to buy new things, no matter what they were for. She'd already forced him to be fitted for new robes, insisting he order plenty of new dress robes for the upcoming gala season despite his protests.

"Mother," he warned, crossing his arms over his chest in frustration and levelling a beseeching look to the seamstress, hoping Madam Malkin would distract his mother with more clothing. She needed to leave off. He was reaching the end of his wick and he didn't particularly feel like having to lose his temper with the woman again. They'd had a fight about this very topic many times already this year.

"Draco," she replied in the same tone, indicating she too was losing patience with him.

"What do you want from me here, Mother?" Draco demanded, glaring at her when she came out of the dressing room.

"I want you to realise that as the only heir to the Malfoy estate you have responsibilities. Which happen to include the marriage to a good woman and the production of an heir of your own to pass on the Malfoy name. And I want you to do so in a timely manner. If I have to deal with one more disgruntled witch at one of my events moaning over your willingness to bed her daughter without wedding her I'm going to smack you, my son."

"If you didn't invite the wretched women to your events you wouldn't have to deal with that problem," Draco informed her.

"If I didn't invite the mothers of every witch you've shagged to my events, I wouldn't have any bloody guests because you can't keep it in your pants! I don't understand why you're having such difficulty settling on a witch and marrying her. Your father was never this picky!"

Draco bit his tongue on the cruel remarks that popped into his head regarding her comment, not wanting to have a full-blown row with his mother in public. That simply wouldn't do. He also didn't much fancy the idea of telling her just why it was that he hadn't just picked a witch he could tolerate and married her.

He didn't think his mother would approve to learn he couldn't settle because all of them disappointed him in bed. He didn't think she be thrilled to know he was chasing a daydream about a girl he'd met one night years ago who'd blown him away without giving him her name. His mother would most likely have an aneurysm if she knew that one night five years ago he'd shagged a total stranger without all the mess of exchanging names and details.

He supposed it was the anonymity he craved. He'd liked that for that one night, who he was and what he'd done hadn't mattered at all. He'd tried chasing that feeling since, but they all recognised his white-blonde hair and the scar on his arm from the Dark mark. They all either wanted to sleep with him because of his dark reputation or because of his money and Draco found them all less than satisfying. Oh, some of the might be rather gifted, but they didn't have that fire he'd found in the masked witch from so long ago.

"I'm going to get a cup of tea," Draco announced to his mother, refusing to continue the discussion with her about heirs and wives and all that rot. He'd get to it eventually, he supposed. Just not today.

Stalking out of the shop, Draco made his way down the street, intent on reaching the café that had opened up where Florean Fortescue's Ice-Creamery had closed down, knowing they did good tea. He was out of sorts as he made his way down the street. In fact, he was downright distracted and he didn't see the little witch in the green robes until it was much too late.

"Oof!" she exclaimed as he collided with her.

Draco's hands came up automatically, catching her upper arms to steady her in an attempt to keep them both from falling to the ground.

"Excuse me," he apologised, "I wasn't watching where I was…. Granger?"

Draco's eyes widened when he leaned back and peered down into the familiar features of none other than Hermione Granger.

"Malfoy?" she asked, blinking at him in shock.

Draco stared at her in shock. He'd not seen the woman in five years. Not since they'd left Hogwarts. She was often in the papers, and occasionally she and the other war heroes attended some of the same events his mother dragged him along to, but he'd not seen her up close.

She looked good. Better than he remembered in the aftermath of the war. Her mane of hair was pulled into a messy bun that was somehow mildly becoming and she looked smart, yet causal in her green everyday robes.

"Oh, I think you dropped something," Draco said, releasing her to bend and pick up the parcels she'd dropped when he'd collided with her.

"Erm… thank you," she said when he handed them to her. She was staring at him in confusion as though she couldn't entirely believe her eyes.

"You're staring, Granger," he informed her when she didn't look away even when he held her gaze.

"I can't believe it's you," she admitted, "I've never heard you be so polite."

Draco caught the sparkle of amusement in her eyes when she said it and realised she was poking fun at him. The very notion made him feel strange.

"Yes well, I can be Edwardian in my manners when the need arises and when I'm at fault. Did I step on your foot?" he replied evenly, using the excuse to look her up and down.

"You did actually," she told him and Draco snorted at her blatant honesty.

He was just opening his mouth to reply when something else drew her attention.

"Mum! Mum? Can we go to Flourish & Blotts now?" a young boy asked, running up to her.

Draco's eyes widened at the sight of the child. He'd read in the papers that after the war Granger and Weasley had gotten busy and had a kid. That wasn't the surprise. The surprise was that the child looked entirely too familiar.

"Of course we can Etamin," she smiled at the little blonde haired boy.

"Who's this?" the boy asked, eyeing him and Draco blinked in open-mouthed shock.

"This is Draco Malfoy," she told him, "He went to school with Mum and Dad and Uncle Harry."

"I've heard of you," the boy told him, looking up and meeting his gaze boldly. He had grey eyes. Draco felt his stomach drop uncomfortably as the lad eyed him, "My name's Etamin Granger-Weasley."

When the kid offered his hand for Draco to shake, Draco glanced at Granger with mounting horror.

"Draco Malfoy," he managed in a strangled sort of voice, shaking Etamin's hand firmly.

"He's not as much of a git as Dad said he was," Etamin told his mother and Hermione chuckled.

"You shouldn't say so in front of him Etamin," Granger admonished seriously though she was laughing. Draco would've found it mildly funny too, under any other circumstance. His gaze jumped between the brown haired witch and the blonde haired boy with mounting horror.

"But if I don't he might never know that Dad thinks he's a bigger git than he seems," the kid said, "Can I go to the book store now?"

"Go on, rascal," she laughed, "Don't talk to strangers and don't break anything."

"Do I ever?" the kid asked, smirking at his mother wickedly and Draco felt ill. Merlin he was going to faint like some excitable maid. The boy ran off down the crowded street before Granger could reply.

"I should go," Granger told him, "He'll topple something over in that shop and wind up wanting to buy the entire stack."

"Granger, how old is your son?" Draco asked, his mind beginning to race.

"Five," she told him, "Why?"

"Five exactly?"

She wrinkled her brow at him in confusion.

"His birthday is in February, why?" she asked.

Oh sweet Salazar, Draco was going to be sick.

"I've got to go," he blurted, backing away from her with horror.

She looked mildly confused before shrugging and turning to follow her son down the street.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Hermione glanced over her shoulder as she and Malfoy parted ways. He'd turned white as a ghost when he'd spotted her son and she was entirely confused about the questions he'd asked about Etamin's age. She hadn't seen Draco Malfoy in a long time.

Oh, his exploits were often splashed across the gossip section of Witch Weekly regarding which new debutant he was dating and deflowering that week, but she'd not really seen him since Hogwarts. It seemed odd to do so now.

He'd looked much better than she recalled from the past. Some of the sharp edges he'd displayed during the war had dulled a little. He still seemed as pointed as ever. If she had to, she'd even say he was as attractive as he'd ever been before the war. She might not have much liked the man, but there could be no denying his aesthetic appeal. Pity his personality wasn't as pleasing as his looks.

"That man had hair like mine," Etamin told her when she found him inside the bookshop, piling books into a basket he'd picked up at the door.

"Yes, he did," Hermione said, feeling a strange pit in her stomach at the observation.

"Dad said he was a ponce, but he seemed alright," Etamin went on.

"Dad is jaded from years of being his rival at Hogwarts," Hermione told him, "And in the past Draco Malfoy wasn't always the nicest of people. He used to be quite rude, actually."

"When do I get to go to Hogwarts, Mum?" Etamin wanted to know, clearly more interested in his future schooling than he was in Malfoy.

"Not until you've turned eleven, sweetheart," Hermione smiled indulgently, "Six years from now."

"Is it better than school now?"

"In some ways," Hermione told him, "The castle at Hogwarts is wonderful, but you won't get to come home to me and Dad every day. You'll spend each term at the castle."

"But I'll be eleven by then," Etamin told her, "It will be good for me."

"Well you'll have to wait a while yet. You don't really want to buy all of those books, do you?" she asked, changing the subject when her heart constricted at the very idea of Etamin going off to Hogwarts and leaving her home alone with just Ron for company.

"Yes, please," her son smiled winningly and Hermione knew he was going to be a heart-breaker one day. He was already entirely too handsome for his own good.

"Are you sure you don't already have any of them?"

"I'm sure," he nodded enthusiastically.

"Well, alright then. Go and take them to the counter so we can pay for them and then we'll go and see Dad, alright?"

Etamin did as he was told, bouncing happily on the balls of his feet as he waited impatiently to read his newest books. As soon as they were paid for, he stuck his nose into the latest one in the series he was enjoying, trailing along beside her on the way down the street. He held one of her hands, trusting her to guide him around things while he read.

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked by way of greeting and Hermione could tell from his tone that he was still annoyed with her over last night's fight.

"Etamin wanted to come in," Hermione shrugged, letting herself behind the counter, ducking her head through to the back to say hello to George.

"He's not even paying attention to where he's going," Ron complained when Etamin walked under the counter and over to the stool in the corner behind the register, sitting down on it without even greeting Ron.

"It's the next in the series he's been reading," Hermione explained, eyeing her son adoringly, "Has it been busy today?"

"Not really. Bit quiet," Ron grunted, looking like he was still put out with her.

"I brought you some lunch," Hermione told him, offering him the brown paper bag with his lunch in it.

He eyed it grudgingly for a few minutes before accepting the bag from her and tearing it open, his stomach trumping his anger with her.

"You're not still pissed at me?" he asked when he'd bitten into the sandwich she'd brought him.

"Not much point," Hermione shrugged.

"I just…" Ron said, glancing towards Etamin, "I want…"

He didn't have to say it. She knew what he wanted. He wanted a biological child of his own.

"I know," Hermione sighed, "I just don't think I'm ready for that."

"You've already got one kid. What's the problem?" Ron demanded.

"I've only recently started going back to work," Hermione pointed out, "If I have to take maternity leave again so soon I might as well just give up working."

"It's not like we need the money," Ron shrugged, and therein laid the other big problem she and Ron had. He wanted her to be like his own mother. With children coming out her ears and taking up all her time. Hermione had goals beyond being a mother and Ron couldn't seem to grasp that.

"Can we not discuss it again today?" Hermione asked him, sighed wearily. She was so tired of fighting with him about this. She supposed it would be easiest to simply give in and just give him what he wanted, but some part of her wouldn't let her. It wasn't that she didn't want to have his children. It was that she didn't trust him not to rip their marriage apart.

She didn't trust that while she was run off her feet mothering his children, he wouldn't grow bored of her bad moods and her lack of sexiness and go looking for attention elsewhere. She didn't like to think about it, but it wasn't as though he hadn't cheated on her before. There was little to stop him from doing so again.

"Fine," he growled, ripping into his sandwich angrily while he glared at her.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from rolling her eyes.

"Etamin?" she called, "Come on, sweetheart. We're going home."

She didn't have the strength to put up with another of Ron's temper tantrums today. Ron narrowed his eyes at her for her words but Hermione ignored him. Etamin, for all his distraction, got to his feet and wandered over, taking her hand to allow her to lead him out of the shop.

"Bye Dad," he called distractedly without looking up from his book as Hermione led him around the counter and towards the door.

"We'll see you at home," Hermione told her husband when he narrowed his eyes at her son in annoyance.

Ron didn't bid either of them goodbye as they left.


	4. 4: Unplanned

**Better Dig Two**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 4 – Unplanned**

* * *

Hermione Granger looked up at the sound of someone entering her office three days later. She had a welcoming smile on her face, expecting her two o'clock appointment to be arriving and she frowned in confusion when instead of a stocky werewolf strolling into her office, her eyes were instead met with the sight of Draco Malfoy.

"Sir? Excuse me? Sir? You can't go in unless you have an appointment!" her assistant, Becky, was calling from her desk and Hermione listened to the sound of her four inch heels clicking as the girl came after Malfoy.

She reached the door in time for Malfoy to close the heavy mahogany wood in her surprised face.

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked when he turned back to her with an unreadable expression on his face, "You can't just barge into my office unannounced. I have appointments to keep and you're interfering."

He didn't say anything as he crossed the office to stand before her desk and Hermione clutched her wand in her lap, just in case this was a less than polite visit. She blinked in shock when he slid a sealed envelope across her desk towards her.

"Open it," he commanded in a tight voice, his grey eyes fixed upon her in a way that was most unsettling.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, picking up the package carefully. It wasn't heavy.

Again, Malfoy didn't say anything. He simply stared at her, waiting for her to do as he'd instructed and eventually Hermione's curiosity got the better of her. Against her better judgement, she tore open the wax seal stamped with the Malfoy crest and peered inside.

Hermione frowned when she saw that inside the envelope there were several photographs. Tipping the package up, she poured them out onto her desk, freezing with suspicion when she saw the subject of each photograph.

"What are you doing with pictures of my son, Malfoy?" Hermione asked him, her voice low and deadly as she turned her eyes and her wand on him threateningly. He didn't flinch back from her.

"That's not your son," he replied, "Turn them over."

Narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously, Hermione did as he said. And across the backs of each photograph was the name Draco Malfoy, along with dates each picture was taken. Turning them back over in confusion, Hermione stared wide-eyed at the pictures. Each one showed a little boy ranging in age from perhaps two until five years.

They all showed a little boy. His eyes were the same grey shade as Etamin's. His hair the same platinum blonde. Even the cheeky smile adorning his face was identical. They were almost exactly the same as many of the photographs she had at home of her son. The only difference was the slight age of the pictures, making them just the tiniest bit faded.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Hermione asked, glancing back up at Malfoy, who was still staring at her intently.

"No, it's not a fucking joke," he replied in a clipped voice, "So why don't you tell me why it is that your son looks identical to me when I was a boy, Granger? Because I'd bloody like to know!"

Dread poured through her like ice-water and Hermione's stomach flipped uncomfortably. A mounting sense of horror gripped her as she stared back down at the photos clutched in her trembling hands. She looked up at him again, then back to the photos, her mind desperately trying to reject the evidence right in front of her face. The boy in the photographs was so much like her own son that there could only be one explanation.

One terrible, horrible, sickening explanation for why Hermione's son looked so much like Draco Malfoy.

"No!" she whispered, dropping the pictures on the desk and slumping back in her chair, "No. It can't be… there's no way…"

"Granger," Malfoy warned, his voice sharp and unkind as he glared at her.

"He can't be your son," Hermione shook her head, denying the horrifying truth.

"Obviously he fucking can," Malfoy ground out.

"But I… we… I mean, I never," Hermione stammered. Her heart was racing inside her chest and she felt like she might be beginning to hyperventilate. She couldn't breathe.

"You sure about that?" Malfoy asked her seriously, "There's not even a possibility inside your mind that your son isn't Weasley's?"

"I mean, I knew he wasn't Ron's," Hermione blurted out, her cheeks turning red, "But I've never slept with you…."

"Then who's his father?" Malfoy demanded and Hermione felt her cheeks darken even more.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted in a whisper, her eyes wide and frightened.

"Then tell me this," Malfoy said in a low voice, "Five years ago, on the night of our Hogwarts Graduation Ball did you have sex with a stranger without removing your mask?"

"I… how did you…? Oh, merlin," Hermione blurted her eyes going wide, "It was you?"

"It was me," Malfoy confirmed, "And I'm wagering you got pregnant that night?"

Hermione slumped back in her chair, staring at Malfoy in utter horror.

She could see it. Those same grey eyes. The blonde hair that matched her son's perfectly. Even the facial structure. Draco Malfoy was the father of her son.

"Fuck!" Hermione exclaimed.

She felt sick. She'd never felt so sick in all her life. Not even during the height of the war. What was she going to tell Ron? The man might've managed to get by the fact that she'd shagged a faceless stranger in response to his philandering ways, but there was no way he would ever love her or Etamin the same if he knew Draco Malfoy was Etamin's father. The last thing she needed to tell her husband when she was arguing against having his kids was that she'd birthed Draco Malfoy's son.

"Am I to take that as a yes?" Malfoy asked seriously, "You slept with someone in the room of requirement on Grad Ball night and got pregnant?"

Hermione nodded mutely, wondering if this was what it felt like to go into shock.

"Fuck!" Malfoy snarled, his hands clenching to fists at his sides before he threw himself down in the chair in front of Hermione's desk. They stared at each other in silent horror as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

What was she going to do? She couldn't tell Ron the truth. He'd fly off the handle. Merlin, he'd probably try to hex Malfoy into oblivion. And she couldn't keep it from him either. She got the feeling Malfoy wouldn't let that happen.

"We have a son," he said hoarsely, staring at her like she was an alien.

"I have a son," Hermione corrected him quietly, "You were just the sperm donor."

"Granger," he began in a warning tone, "Don't make this more complicated than it needs to be by trying to keep my son from me."

"He's not your son!" Hermione hissed, narrowing her eyes dangerously, "He's mine. Until five minutes ago I wasn't even aware we'd had sex. Had I known it was you in that room that night, I'd never have…"

"You think I would've?" he scoffed.

"No. I don't. Which is exactly my point. You and I dislike each other immensely, and by some wild chance we ended up shagging. As a result Etamin was born and while I will never regret or take back bringing him into the world, I can't say I'm thrilled to learn that you are his biological father," Hermione told him frankly.

"But I am his father," Malfoy pointed out coldly, "As much as neither of us are thrilled about that fact. Which leaves us with something of a conundrum."

"You want to be in his life?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows challengingly, "You actually mean to tell me that pureblood elitist Draco Malfoy means to acknowledge having sired a son with a muggleborn like me?"

"Don't fucking complicate it, Granger," he warned again, his eyes flashing dangerously, "This entire situation is screwy enough without you being a spiteful bitch about shit long-buried. Now what the fuck do we do about the fact that Etamin is my son?"

Hermione huffed in annoyance.

Her mind was reeling and anger was sparking in her blood, making her want to lash out irrationally in fear over the fallout she knew would come from this mess. Biting her lip, Hermione did the only thing she could think of right then to regain some semblance of control over her life as it began a rapid tailspin.

She got to her feet and stomped quickly around her desk to the door. Jerking it open harshly, she stuck her head out and looked at Becky.

"Becky, please cancel the rest of my appointments for today. Tell them I've had a sudden crisis crop up and reschedule them all for some time next week. Cancel tomorrow's appointments as well. I won't be in," Hermione instructed the petite blonde woman.

"Is everything alright Hermione?" Becky asked her, looking alarmed and concerned.

"No, it most certainly is not alright. When you're done with the appointments, please bring me an Earle Grey tea," she paused for a moment, sticking her head back into her office, "You want tea Malfoy?"

"Merlin, yes," he replied, "Strong and black. Two sugars."

"Did you get that Becky?" Hermione confirmed.

"Cancel all of your appointments for the rest of today and all of tomorrow, then bring an Earle Grey tea and a strong black tea with two," Becky confirmed, nodding her head, "I'm on it boss. Let me know if there's anything else I can do."

Hermione smiled gratefully before closing her office door again and eyeing the back of Malfoy's head where he sat at her desk. Merlin, if she was going to get through this a nice cup of tea just might not cut it.

Going to the cabinet to the left of her desk, Hermione dug out the liquor decanter and two glasses from inside. They'd been a gift from Harry two years ago when he'd taught her to appreciate a good glass of honey flavoured whiskey. She didn't bother asking Malfoy if he wanted one, she simply poured two, before carrying both of them back to her desk. A migraine was beginning to niggle behind her eyes and Hermione was dreading the afternoon ahead.

Malfoy grunted in surprise when she pressed the glass of whiskey into his hand before retaking her seat. He didn't say thank you before he brought the glass to his lips and drank the liquid down. Hermione sipped her own liberally, eyeing him hatefully.

As though it weren't bad enough that some terrible twist of fate meant he was the biological father of her son, Hermione needed a moment to come to terms with having had sex with him. In fact she needed a good long while to process the fact that up until a few minutes ago she'd been recalling that night pleasantly, having been somewhat enamoured with the entire experience. She'd bloody fantasised about it plenty of times since then and Hermione felt ill to know she'd been unknowingly fantasising about Draco Malfoy.

Could there be any greater horror?

"I'm still waiting for your answer, Granger," he pointed out after several long minutes went by in total silence, "What do we do about him being my son?"

"What do you want to do about it?" Hermione asked him, "Do you want to be part of his life?"

"That would be nice," Malfoy nodded, "And I'd like him to know I'm his father."

"Malfoy," Hermione whined, sighing in exasperation, "Do you have any idea how complicated and confusing that will be for him? Etamin is a genius! He's far more mature and far smarter already than some adults I know. What do you think it will do to him to have me tell him that though I've told him all along that Ron is his father, it's actually you instead?"

"He's only five, I'm sure he'll be fine," Malfoy said.

Hermione wanted to throw something at him.

"Are you that thick and that cruel?" she demanded, "He's going to be confused and hurt. He'll be heartbroken to know that all this time I've lied to him. And Ron is going to go ballistic!"

"Weasley isn't my problem. The kid's a Malfoy and he should bloody well know it."

"And how do you propose I explain all that to him? How should I tell him that all the cousins he thinks he has aren't actually biologically related to him? How do I explain that the man who's been tucking him into bed most nights isn't his daddy, some guy his parents don't like is instead?"

"How are you going to explain it any better to let me see him and spend time with the boy?" Malfoy challenged bluntly, "The best option is to tell him it's because I'm his father. And it has the added bonus of being the truth."

"And Ron?" Hermione demanded furiously.

"Weasley's your problem. You were the fool who married a cheating slimeball in the first place. Is he aware Etamin isn't his?" Malfoy retorted coldly.

"Yes," Hermione admitted, "You may recall that I asked for marks…. I rubbed his nose in what I'd done."

"I never envisioned you to have a vindictive streak," Malfoy commented, eyeing her strangely, "But that's not the point. If Weasley knows Etamin isn't his, I'll bet it's eating away at him and effecting his relationship with my son."

Hermione sighed, hating the fact that it was true. She and Ron still hadn't come to some sort of agreement regarding the additional children issue and she'd felt Ron's resentment growing. She suspected he knew on some level that she feared she wouldn't love any others as much as she loved Etamin. She also suspected he was beginning to resent Etamin for existing at all.

"The boy knows, doesn't he?" Malfoy asked, watching her closely, "He's noticed a difference?"

"He said something about it the other day," Hermione replied tiredly, throwing back the rest of her whiskey and praying for patience, "Ron and I have been fighting because he wants kids of his own. Biologically. Etamin doesn't know he's not biologically Ron's son."

"You don't want more kids?" Malfoy asked, looking intrigued by the beginnings of the story and clearly sensing there was a lot more to it.

"I don't. I'm afraid having any others would be unfair to them. I'm afraid I won't love them as much as I love Etamin. He's… he's wonderful. Incredibly smart; witty, clever, sharp, happy. He's everything I ever hoped for in a child. And I'm afraid others won't measure up. Not because they're Ron's, but because they won't be Etamin. But of course, I can't tell Ron that because he'll think it's about him. Anyway, I was explaining to Etamin that I couldn't love his siblings as I love him."

Hermione bit her lip.

"As I mentioned, he's terribly bright, and he asked me why I couldn't. It sparked a philosophical debate about love and he mentioned how it was understandable because not everyone is capable of loving equally. When I asked him what he meant, he pointed out the different ways people express their love. For example, Harry and Ginny. Ginny shows her love by being a wonderful mother and always fussing after her children. Harry shows it by playing with the kids often, joking with them and having a good time and telling them he loves them. Anyway, Etamin mentioned that he's noticed the difference too in the way Ron and I love him. He said he knows I love him and would do anything for him because I dote on him and tell him all the time. He said that with Ron, he gets Quidditch talk and stiff handshakes. He said that he understands why Ron wants more kids and I don't, because I pour all my love into him, while Ron has love left over for others."

"You let that git mistreat my son enough to think he's not loved?" Malfoy demanded, anger glittering in grey eyes identical in colour to her son's.

"Ron loves him. Just, not as much as he would his own kids. When I asked Etamin what he meant, he just said that he knows that with Ron there's something there preventing Ron from loving him the way I love him. He said he knows that if he wanted, I'd give him the moon, where Ron would tell him the moon wouldn't fit in his bedroom."

"He wants the moon?" Malfoy asked, baffled.

"Don't be daft. He was being metaphorical," Hermione rolled her eyes, "And before you ask, yes, a five year old as bright as Etamin is capable of being metaphorical."

"Bloody hell," Malfoy muttered, looking mildly alarmed, "But then he knows something is off with Weasley. It won't be hard to convince him it's because Weasley isn't his biological father."

"And then what exactly?" Hermione wanted to know, "You want me to destroy his relationship with Ron to know he's yours biologically, and then what?"

"What do you mean?" Malfoy asked, "I want to know the kid."

"But what is your plan here exactly?" Hermione asked him, "When this gets out, it will be all over the papers. I can already see the headlines, "Snobby Pureblood breaks tradition and sires half-blood with a muggleborn." Like it or not Malfoy, you and I are both prominent people in the wizarding world. Everything in our lives will be called into question and readers will go rabid for every detail. They'll want to know how the hell we hooked up five years ago. My marriage will be called into question. Ron will probably demand a divorce. Molly will never forgive me for letting everyone think he was Ron's kid. You'll be dragged into the entire mess. They'll say you knew and abandoned us. They'll paint Ron as the hero, rather than the cheating villain whose infidelity landed you and I in bed together in the first place."

"So you'd rather just keep me out of your son's life because you despise me?" Malfoy demanded.

"I want to know what you plan to do about this?" Hermione retorted, "You want to shatter my son's illusions and then what? You want him on weekends? You want to battle for custody of my son. Because I can tell you now, that's not going to happen. You will not take my son from me."

"Easy Granger," he said, holding his hands up placatingly, "I'm not going to fight you for him or take him from you. I just want to be a part of his life and to have him know I'm his father. If we can't come to some kind of agreement… well…. We have to. If it means you bring him to the Manor a few nights a week or something, so be it. I just want to be a part of his life."

"How can you sound calm about this?" Hermione demanded, eyeing him and wondering if he was barmy.

"I knew as soon as I saw him with you in Diagon Alley the other day that he was my son. I've had a few days to come to terms with this, even if I did need confirmation," he admitted seriously, "I also don't have a spouse that I need to worry about upsetting. I know it's none of my business, but why in Merlin's name did you marry Weasley?"

"I love Ron," Hermione told him stubbornly and he raised his eyebrows.

"No Granger, you don't," he told her, "A woman in love with someone doesn't shag me the way you did. You were furious and you were seeking revenge and you bloody well got it. The two of you slept around on each other. The dumbest thing you could ever have done was forgive each other and get married. Didn't he lose his nut at you when he saw the marks I left all over you?"

"Of course he did, and when I told him I was pregnant, he blamed himself. He realised he was being an idiot, we forgave each other, we got married and we agreed to raise Etamin as our own."

"Only Weasley's been bollocksing it up enough that the kid knows he doesn't love him right," Malfoy growled.

"And you want to make it worse by shoving this whole mess in his face? He's a child, Malfoy. He needs a stable home environment. Not a hodge-podge, being traded off on weekends deal. He needs to feel safe and comfortable and like he has a home; not like he's some vagrant floating between two different houses and two separated parents."

"Then move to the Manor," Malfoy shrugged his shoulders, "It's not like there isn't enough room."

Hermione wondered why her jaw didn't make a noise when it fell open so far it could've hit her desk. She stared at him wide eyed in utter shock and mounting horror. Had he actually just said that?

"Did you just hear yourself?" Hermione asked him, baffled by how calm he seemed.

"Are you always this dramatic?" he rolled his eyes, "Look Granger, the fact of the matter is, we're the kid's parents. You want to make sure he's safe and stable and happy. I want to be a part of his life, and would prefer it if he could do so while being all of the things you want too. So it stands to reason that if he needs to not being traversing between dwellings, and you won't live away from him, then you should both move into Malfoy Manor with me."

"You've lost your mind," Hermione surmised, feeling a prickle of pity at the very thought.

"No I bloody haven't, don't look at me like that Granger!" he snapped, narrowing his eyes on her, "We both know you're going to need somewhere to live when the shit hits the fan with Weasley and his family. Weasley might've forgiven you and blamed himself for you having someone else's kid when neither of you knew who Etamin's biological father is, but he'll never get by the idea that you were so pissed at him that you shagged me."

"It's not like I knew it was bloody you," Hermione protested.

"No, but try telling him that. What's he more likely to believe? That you threw a tantrum and shagged his worst enemy before lying and saying you didn't know it was me. Or that you just had a few too many, trying to drown your sorrows and we both just happened to enjoy anonymity enough not to ask for each other's identity before going at it like bunnies? Because I know which one I'd pick if I hadn't been there," Malfoy told her and Hermione felt the pit of dread inside her stomach begin to churn.

She might be sick.

"And so you're just throwing out the idea that you and I – two people who strongly dislike each other – should just move in together with our love-child when my husband divorces me?"

"Where else are you going to go?" Malfoy asked her, "The Weasleys won't just straight up forgive you for lying to them. And Potter won't take you in, he's married to a Weasley and they'd never forgive him either if he did. So where else will you go? Who else do you have in your life who isn't going to be horrified and disgusted to know you birthed my son?"

Hermione barely managed to snag the waste paper basket from beneath her desk before the contents of her stomach made a reappearance. Malfoy didn't say anything as she coughed and gagged into the bin under her desk. She'd slipped out of her chair to sit on the floor, clutching the trash can like it was her only lifeline.

What was she going to do?

Malfoy was right. The Weasleys would never forgive her if they knew she'd birthed Draco Malfoy's offspring. It was one thing to have lied and told them all that Ron was Etamin's father. It was entirely another to have done so when she'd lied to them about who his real father was.

Her life was ruined. All of it. It was all over. She would be a divorced, single mother. Disgraced in the wizarding world. Abandoned by all her friends and everyone she cared about. Her son would never forgive her for lying and landing them in this mess when the Weasleys all refused to let him play with their children anymore.

Hermione realised that she'd begun to sob as she clutched her trashcan. She didn't think there was anything left in her stomach but bile. She felt even worse when movement caught her eye and Malfoy's shined shoes appeared next to her on her side of the desk.

She sobbed harder when he squatted next to where she was sitting pitifully on the floor and handed her a damp towelette for her face. He aimed his wand into the waste basket and vanished the mess she'd made. Hermione flinched when he carefully gathered her loose long hair and smoothed it down her back so she wouldn't get any mess in it.

"I vomited all night when I realised," he told her as Hermione wiped her face and tried to pull herself together. He handed her a breath mint when she disposed of the towelette before offering her a hand to her feet. Hermione was trembling as she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She watched in a daze as he poured her a second glass of whiskey, pressing it into her hand before helping himself to more and returning to the chair in front of her desk.

"My life is ruined," Hermione muttered to him in horror.

"Is it?" he asked, watching her over the rim of his glass speculatively.

"What do you mean? Of course it is," Hermione spat, glaring at him for his conversational tone.

"Why? Because your loveless marriage will come to an end?" he asked, "Because the lying, cheating bastard you married to will be out of your life?"

"There's a lot more to my life than Ron," Hermione retorted, "The rest of his family have been like my own since I was twelve years old! They'll never speak to me again when they find out. They'll refuse to let Etamin play with their kids anymore! My son will hate me over this."

"I think you're being dramatic," Malfoy informed her, "They might not be willing to take you in if Weasley throws you out, but they're not going to just abandon you Granger. Yes, I imagine it will take them some time to come to terms with the truth, but eventually they will do so. I think you'll find that once the initial shock wears off, they'll prove that like most people, no one wants to take sides or get in the middle of a messy break up. They'll still let Etamin play with their kids. They'll still talk to you once the shock wears off."

"You think they still will if I take you up on your offer?" Hermione asked darkly.

"I don't know," Malfoy shrugged, "They'll have their suspicions, I expect. But most people are mature enough not to get involved the affairs of others when they actually know them. We might all scramble to the gossip section of the Prophet each morning to see what those we don't know or care about have been up to, but when we're effected it's less amusing and more awkward."

"I really wish I hadn't run into you the other day," Hermione told him, skolling her drink before laying her forehead on the table.

"Real nice, Granger," he grunted but Hermione didn't bother looking at him for his annoyed tone.

"Oh shut up. You've ruined my life, you don't get to be pissy," she told him, her fingertips massaging her temples as her migraine grew.

"I've ruined _your_ life?" he scoffed, "Woman I've been doing my damnedest for years to keep from siring a kid with any of the witches I sully, arguing with my mother about the need to produce an heir, and all along you've been raising that heir. My life is ruined. Do you know what my mother will do when she finds out about this?"

"Cry, probably," Hermione told him, "Possibly arrange for the assassination of me and Etamin."

"She'll try to insist I marry you," Malfoy corrected her.

"What?" Hermione yelped, lifting her head in alarm.

"First, you're the mother of my heir, and secondly, you're muggleborn. Do you know how hard she's been working to get the Malfoy family back in the good graces of wizarding Britain? To my mother you and Etamin will be a goldmine."

"If you think for even a second," Hermione began hotly.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist Granger, I didn't say I'd let her talk me into it," Malfoy held up his hands again, warding off her threats before she could voice them.

"This is a nightmare," she told him, groaning as she rubbed her temples some more.

"I know," he replied, eyeing her strangely.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, wondering if she needed some Aspirin or if she should just finish off the rest of the whiskey in her liquor decanter. When she opened them at the sound of her office door being opened by Becky - who was carrying tea - Hermione found Malfoy still watching her.

"Oh Merlin, Hermione are you alright?" Becky asked her, looking concerned when she spotted the state Hermione was in.

"No," Hermione admitted truthfully, accepting her tea and taking a sip. Holding the cup, feeling the familiar warmth seep into her skin, Hermione felt mildly calmer.

"Is there anything I can do?" Becky offered, hovering about and clearly distressed by the state Hermione was in.

"Not really Becky. Thank you for the tea," Hermione sighed wearily.

"It's not trouble. If there's anything I can do, you just let me know, alright?"

Hermione nodded tiredly, aware that Malfoy was still watching her. He didn't seem to want his tea after all, still drinking whiskey as he sat there before her desk.

"Why are you staring at me Malfoy?" Hermine asked him when she'd warded the door after Becky closed it with a click.

"Trying to rationalise the Granger I know and torment against the woman I shagged in that room," he replied evenly and Hermione choked on her tea.

"Why would you say that?" she choked, coughing on the liquid lodged in her throat as she stared at him wide-eyed in alarm.

"Because if it weren't for the evidence, I'd never in a million years believe it could possibly have been you behind that mask," he shrugged.

"I'd really rather not discuss it," Hermione told him bluntly, "I don't want to vomit again."

He smirked at that as though Hermione amused him.

"So, what now?" he asked her, still watching her when neither of them said anything else for several minutes

"Why do you want to be part of his life?" Hermione asked him, frowning.

"Is that a trick question?" he wanted to know, eyeing her mildly, "I want to be a part of his life because biologically he is my son. And because I have a right to know my own child."

Hermione stayed silent, pondering him carefully.

"I think it might be best if you meet him before I tell Ron. I mean, I know you met him the other day in Diagon Alley, but that was rather brief. I don't want to go upsetting him and uprooting everything he knows – not to mention everything in my own life – on the off chance that you mean to stick around long enough to actually care for him."

"You doubt that I'll want to have anything to do with my own son?" he asked seriously, raising one eyebrow at her and Hermione realised that he'd already had the chance to get used to the idea of being a father and had decided that come hell or high water, he wanted this.

Hermione was surprised by that.

"I don't doubt that you want to have something to do with him, Malfoy. I just doubt your staying power. It's well and good to say that you want to be in his life and help raise him now, but the realities of child rearing are far removed from the romantic notions that are thrown about regarding the topic. The most important illusion being that a child will be cute and loveable all the time and that they'll be tiny replicas of their parents. I can assure you that Etamin is very much his own person. In some ways he's very much like me. In others, I've noticed traits that I recall you exhibiting in our youth. And sometimes he's a bit like Harry or Ron. And then there are some instances where he is just entirely Etamin. Where he might do or say something so far removed from the personal traits of anyone we know, that I just sit there in shock."

"I'm not suggesting that I want to mould him into a little clone of myself, Granger," Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"No, you're just wanting to barge in to upset the applecart and make everything all the more complicated," Hermione grumbled.

"Listen, witch," Malfoy snapped, his grey eyes flashing, "You were to one who went and attached yourself to a cart of rotten apples. You were the one who committed adultery in retaliation against your philandering boyfriend and got pregnant with my kid. You were the one who stupidly married the faithless bastard and insisted on having him try to raise my kid. Don't you dare sit there and blame me for wanting to be in my own son's life when your wanker of a husband is doing a shoddy job at being my son's father."

"It's hardly my fault Ron is a selfish bastard," Hermione protested before recalling who she was talking to and why she shouldn't be badmouthing her husband.

"And yet you married him anyway," Malfoy sneered, "It's not as though you hadn't the chance to get to know him beforehand. You married him knowing he was a selfish, egotistical, self-entitled wanker with a chip on his shoulder and a penchant for loose women who aren't bloody you. And to make matters worse, you combined all of those things with demanding he play Daddy to another man's kid. What did you think would happen, Granger? The bloke has a swath of older brothers whom he's been overshadowed by for most of his life, making him feel the burning need to prove himself and you ask him to raise someone else's son?"

Malfoy was glaring at her over her desk while Hermione narrowed her eyes on him, furious with his words and feeling a twist of annoyance to know that most of those things were true about Ron. He wasn't a bad person. He had a strong sense of loyalty to his friends and he could be rather smart at times. But he certainly had his faults.

"It's no wonder he's been badgering you about letting him knock you up," Malfoy went on coldly, "He's the type who will feel like he's failed if he doesn't do what everyone else has done. Potter's got a couple of kids by now, most of Weasley's brothers do too. And his own bloody wife has a kid who's technically not his. I don't think you really need me to tell you that continuing in a relationship with him – especially one where you've birthed _my_ son – without giving him a few brats that are biologically his, is a recipe for destruction. You deny him enough and he'll fuck his bastards into some other tart's belly."

"Why are we discussing my marriage?" Hermione bristled, "You're here about Etamin, not Ron."

"I am," he agreed, "And you're telling me I should walk the hell away and let my son be mistreated by your wanker of a husband – a bastard who will eventually abandon you and my son. It's not going to fucking happen, Granger. I don't much care if your marriage self-destructs as a result of him learning Etamin's mine and I don't at all care for your doubts about my ability and inclination to be the boy's real father."

"It's not that simple Malfoy," Hermione hissed at him, "If he were younger or less of a genius, it might be. If he were still a toddler with no real idea of who was who in his life this would be simple enough. Yes, I am concerned about the impending doom of my marriage. But this is about Etamin. He knows Ron to be his father. He might've realised Ron doesn't love him quite right, but he still believes that Ron is his father. If you just waltz in claiming you're his father he'll be hurt and he'll be confused."

"So you want to wait until he's older and more damage is done?" Malfoy asked cruelly, "Until Weasley loses his shit at you about raising another man's son – my son, at that - when you won't raise his kids where the tot might hear him? You want Etamin to suffer the horror of knowing his pretend Daddy isn't his father and doesn't love him? You want to subject him to that fight, knowing Weasley will blow up about it and snarl over Etamin not being his son? You think that will be better for the kid's psychological state?"

"I don't want to ever bloody tell him," Hermione snapped, "I never wanted to have to deal with the idea of having you find out that you are his father and I never wanted Ron to love him less. It's why I've been refusing to have kids with Ron. Because I just _know_ he'll show them more love and care than he gives Etamin and I don't want to break my son's heart like that."

"And I'm sure fear of him cheating on you again has nothing to do with it," Malfoy rolled his eyes and Hermione's stomach flipped at his ability to guess her reasoning so well, "Look Granger, like I said, your marriage is your business. But when it affects my sons it also becomes my business and I won't allow you to dictate when I can and can't claim the boy as mine based on the whims of your sham of a marriage."

"All I said was that I'd rather have you meet with him and decide this is actually what you want before I go completely upsetting him," Hermione grumbled.

"Yeah, but I heard loud and clear that you want to take the coward's way out, hoping I'll give up on the idea of claiming my son just by meeting him. I can assure you it will not work," Malfoy informed her coldly.

"Since when are you so interested in the idea of having a kid anyway, Malfoy?" Hermione demanded, "Last I heard you were raking your way through every eligible pureblood witch and a good number of the half-bloods too. Why would you suddenly want to have a kid when everything in your history suggests a severe lack of commitment and a distaste in general for being a husband or a father?"

"I don't suddenly want anything," Malfoy snapped, "It's just a cold, hard fact that I do have a son. With you. And I want to take responsibility for him. More to the point, I've thus far avoided marriage and fatherhood because every witch I sully is so bloody dull and the idea of having to marry them for the sake of producing an heir made me nauseas. In this instance you already have the child and I highly doubt you're going to demand I ever marry you. It's really a win-win situation. I get an heir without needing the inconvenience of a dull wife. You get a ticket out of a marriage that would eventually leave you penniless and possibly too old to consider remarrying. And Etamin gets to be raised by a man who will actually love him as a man should love his son, rather than a resentful bastard who sees him as a hurdle to getting what he wants from his wife."

"Oh well doesn't that just make it all better?" Hermione snarled, "Never mind the scandal we'll face in the eyes of the wizarding world. Never mind the fury and disappointment I'll receive when people learn that I'm a liar who shagged the likes of you. Never mind that our son will be left confused and hurt over being lied to and over replacing one Daddy for another man he's met once. No, it's all about you getting the heir you need and me avoiding being cheated on again."

"I was merely pointing out some of the advantages of this mess, Granger, not dismissing the drawbacks and fallout we'll both face," Malfoy replied, eyeing her as though he was both annoyed and amused.

"Why did you bloody have to run into me in Diagon Alley?" Hermione moaned, covering her face with her hands, "Why did it have to be you – of all people – in that stupid room that night?"

"Kismet?" Malfoy suggested, "After all, the chances of us every shagging were astronomical. More to the point you and Etamin just happened to be in the Alley the same time and the same day as me in order for us to run into one another."

"You believe in fate?" Hermione asked, peering at him through her fingers with some concern.

"After everything that went down with Potter and the Dark Lord and that whole prophecy nonsense, how can you not believe in fate, Granger?" he asked her mildly.

"Because I know there was a choice and that it's our choices that determine the path we take, not some higher power," Hermione told him.

"And it was your choice that you wanted to retaliate against Weasley for cheating on you rather than simply breaking up with him. It was my choice to return to the scene of my crime before leaving the school for a final time to wallow in my regrets and instead encounter an angry and lustful witch seeking revenge on her partner. It was your choice to travel to Diagon Alley three days ago with your son. It was my choice to abandon a fight with my mother in favour of fetching a cup of tea so I didn't strangle her about needing an heir. Choices we both made put us on this path."

"I'd forgotten you took Divination until fifth year," Hermione rolled her eyes, "Of course you believe in that rubbish to some extent."

"We're not here to discuss this nonsense anyway," Malfoy reminded her, "We're here to discuss how and when you will allow me to meet my son and be in his life. And to figure out some kind of arrangement that will see two former enemies and childhood rivals raise their shared child harmoniously and without further scaring the kid's mental status."

Hermione sighed, closing her eyes. She felt tired. Exhausted even. She hadn't been sleeping properly because she'd been fighting with Ron all week and agonising over her discussion with Etamin. This mess with Malfoy was just too much to handle right now. She didn't want to deal with it. With any of it. She knew she had to but honestly she just wanted to curl up and cry for a little while before pulling up her Big-Girl knickers and getting on with it.

"Just…." she sighed again, "Just hang around then. Ginny will be by to drop Etamin off at four."


	5. 5: Play Nice

**Better Dig Two**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 5 – Play Nice**

* * *

Malfoy raised his eyebrows in surprise and Hermione turned her attention back to the pictures on her desk. The ones he'd given her that depicted the many similarities between him and her son.

"How did you not realise that he was mine?" he asked a little while later, leaving her to peruse the photographs and marvel over the similarities.

"It just never occurred to me," Hermione admitted, "Now that I know, I can't believe I didn't put it together. It simply never occurred to me that he could be your son because I never considered for even a second that it could have been you behind that mask."

"The obviously Malfoy traits weren't a hint at all?" he asked sceptically.

"No," Hermione shook her head, glancing at him, "I mean it's not like I've spent a lot of time noting the colour of your eyes. We avoided each other at school. You picked fights with Harry and Ron, but after I punched you in third year you only ever targeted me if things got out of hand with Harry and Ron and I had to get involved. It's not like I went about mooning over you so much as to note your eye colour. I simply knew that you had blonde hair and were a git."

"Etamin's hair is the same shade as mine," he pointed out.

"Yes, but it's not uncommon for young children to have brilliant blonde hair. I was blonde as a toddler, and I've a few cousins who had the same shade of blonde in their hair until they were in their teens. I assumed it was a carryover from my genes," Hermione explained honestly.

"And his eyes? Grey eyes are rare, Granger."

"I know," she nodded, "But one of the few things I recalled of _that_ night was the eye colour of the man I was shagging. Your eyes were all I could see of your identity. I knew Etamin had been born with his father's eyes when he was born. I just never connected that _you_ have grey eyes."

"Still though, even in the wizarding world eyes like mine are uncommon. Only those of the Malfoy or Black bloodlines have them and you would have known I'm one of the few carrying both bloodlines on," Malfoy pointed out.

"I don't make it a point to memorise categorizing traits of wizarding genetics, Malfoy. I had other things to deal with. Like being involved in a war and dealing with being pregnant right out of school," Hermione argued, "And if I'm being completely honest I wasn't really interested in finding out the identity of Etamin's father. The anonymity was something I savoured. Had I discovered it was you, I'd probably still have kept it from you and I'd have blushed and stammered like a naked virgin every time I saw you, recalling what we did to each other."

"Like you're blushing now?" he smirked at her and Hermione felt her cheeks heat further at his mention of it, "Thought I do have a hard time believing it was you doing all those things. Who'd have known Hermione Granger was a spitfire in the sack?"

"I believe you're the only one aware of that fact, actually," Hermione told him quietly, blushing harder, "So I would appreciate you keeping it to yourself."

"You don't shag Weasley like that then?" he asked, looking concerned.

"I have to look him in the eye afterwards," Hermione shrugged.

"You're looking me in the eye right now, what's the problem?"

"I never knew it was you. I can assure you that I had I known whom I was shagging – be it you or anyone else – I'd never have been so… unrestrained," Hermione told him, "I have my dignity and my reputation to think of."

"And so you deprive yourself in bed?" he asked, looking baffled, "Merlin, your marriage is even more of a shambles than I thought."

"Excuse me?" Hermione demanded, narrowing her eyes on him.

"Oh come on, Granger, don't be thick," he told her, "You've been married to a bloke for five years and you can't even be honest and open about your sexual fantasies and needs. That's got to tell you something."

"It tells me I'm smart enough not to go blabbing about such things lest they get out," Hermione retorted.

"Displaying a severe lack of trust in the one person you should trust the most in the entire world," Malfoy rolled his eyes, "I can't believe you married the sod. You don't trust him, you've fucked around on one another and based on your silent acceptance of my criticisms of the man you don't much love him either. From what I can see, you stay with the bastard out of fear of being alone or being disowned by his family."

"Ron's been my friend for twelve years," Hermione protested.

"Yeah, and he's been your spouse for five. Yet you don't trust him and you're not in love with him. You married the bloke under false pretences because you confused friendship with romance and I'll bet it was also because it was expected of you," he shook his head in disgust.

"Can we discuss something other than my sex life and my marriage?" Hermione demanded, her cheeks flaming with both embarrassment and anger now.

"Just calling it like I see it, Granger," he smirked wickedly at her, "Tell me about my son?"

"What do you want to know?" Hermione asked, pouncing on the change of topic. It was a much safer topic that the previous one.

"Everything," Malfoy admitted, leaning forwards a little, "When is his birthday?"

"February seventeenth," Hermione told him.

"What was his first word?" Malfoy asked.

"His first cohesive word was 'apple'," Hermione informed him, "Though he'd mastered 'boo' and 'mumumumum' as well."

"What is he like?" Malfoy wanted to know, "You said he's a genius?"

"He is," Hermione smiled fondly as she thought of Etamin, "He's only five but he's so clever. He was optically tracking right out of the womb – which is rare. Usually optical tracking takes a week or two. He just grasps things so quickly. He can already read – exceptionally so for someone his age – and any words he comes across in his books that he doesn't know, he looks up in the dictionary he insisted I give him."

"Has he taken his W.O.M.B.A.T.s yet?" Malfoy wanted to know, referring to the wizarding equivalent of early learning aptitude tests for children.

"Yes," Hermione nodded, "He broke the testing system. They actually had to ask me to come in and sit down with them to discuss it. They wanted to put him in an accelerated program at Tussaints – that new wizarding elementary school. They also asked that the Unspeakables run a few tests on him."

"Did you say no?" Malfoy asked, aghast by the idea.

"I insisted on being present for all of them and I only agreed to it after Etamin said he wanted to do it. Mostly it was just about monitoring his mind as he solved puzzles and problems. They had him trying to perform magic too – quite successfully," Hermione told him seriously.

"Definitely not a Squib then," Malfoy grinned.

"The likelihood of Muggleborns throwing Squibs is very rare, actually," Hermione told him, "It has to do with the Magical gene manifesting from both parents having magical ancestors. Meaning that somewhere in my family tree on both sides there are witches and wizards who bred with muggles. Being muggleborn tends to make for more profound magical ability."

"Then why have I been taught that purebloods are more powerful my whole life?" Malfoy frowned, clearly not knowing that.

"Honestly?" Hermione asked, "I think originally purebloods were baffled by the idea of others being more magically gifted and so they started falsifying information and it just took root. Generally speaking purebloods are more magically powerful than half-bloods who have one magical and one muggle parent. In muggleborns the pair of magical genes overpowers the muggle genes and makes for stronger magical beings. It's why I am so gifted."

"And here I thought you just studied too much for your own good," Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"That was certainly a factor. I actually have you to thanks for some of my academic achievements," she told him in the humblest of tones, "If you hadn't picked on me for my blood status, I wouldn't have worked quite so hard to be such a know-it-all. I was naturally curious about everything in the wizarding world, but I'd never have worked so hard to prove myself as belonging there if you hadn't been such a sod."

"You're welcome," Malfoy smirked widely, "I feel I should be compensated for all these favours I've done for you."

"Favours plural?" Hermione asked, frowning at him.

"Made you study harder to be brilliant; shagged you so well that one time; gave you such a fantastic kid. You owe me, I think," he told her arrogantly and Hermione felt a flicker of annoyance before she caught the gleam of humour in his grey eyes and realised he was trying to bait her.

"I'm sure I've evened the score," she smiled, "What with giving you an heir without the hassle of marriage or the stress of raising him through his toddler years. Not to mention saving your life that time during the war."

"Now, now," Malfoy clicked his tongue, "I saved you and your lot at the Manor first. We're even when it comes to life-debts."

"I don't know," Hermione argued, "There were all those times I had to rescue you from Harry and Ron's wrath. I think you owe me more than you could ever realise."

"They'd never have killed me," he shook his head, "Probably just bloodied my lip or hexed me a bit."

"Still though," Hermione smirked at him, surprised when he smirked back at her. She was shocked, in fact to find herself able to tease Draco Malfoy in good fun. It was clear he'd matured a lot since the war and the idea of playing nice with him was almost foreign to her, yet appreciated the sentiment.

If she had to handle the rest of her life tolerating him for Etamin's sake, in any regard, it would be best if they could be cordial or even friendly. Hermione hated herself just the tiniest bit when a flash of memory of the night they'd spent together played behind her eyes.

"How often does the tot have school?" Malfoy asked, still smirking and clearly pleased that she'd played along though it was tough to tell when his facial expression were so foreign to her.

"He goes to Tussaints three mornings a week – Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. I also send him to a muggle pre-school on Tuesdays. I want to make sure he understands and is involved in muggle culture as well as wizarding culture. It also keeps my parents off my back about him having a well-rounded education and proper socialisation," Hemrione told him, "Monday's he goes to Ginny's until I finish work at four. She looks after him and he gets to socialise with Teddy, James, Albus and the other Weasley kids."

"How many in that brood now anyway?" Malfoy wanted to know.

"Harry and Ginny have James and Albus at the moment, though I suspect Ginny might be pregnant again. They're also raising Teddy Lupin – Remus and Tonk's son. He's Harry's godson and Andromeda was a little too broken up over the loss of her daughter, her husband and her son-in-law to cope very well in the beginning. As soon as the war was over Harry took Teddy on, insisting he was happy to do it and that it would be good for Teddy to be raised with a father figure and all that rather than by only his Grandmother. Andromeda actually lives with them at Harry's place – she's got her own cottage on Harry's land so they're co-raising him."

"Teddy," Malfoy mused, "Nymphadora's kid, right?"

Hermione nodded.

"I remember hearing she was pregnant during the war. She was my cousin, you know? That kid's my second cousin. What's he like?" Malfoy asked and Hermione was surprised by the interest he was showing.

"He's lovely. A little shy to begin with, but once he's comfortable he really comes out of his shell. He's a metamorphagus like Tonks was. Most of the time he alternates between his natural, resting state – which is a little boy with blonde and turquoise hair – and looking like Harry, James and Albus. Dark hair, green eyes. Every now and then he impersonates the other Weasley kids too, red hair, freckles. He's a happy kid. He doesn't know really that Harry and Ginny aren't his parents. He calls them Mum and Dad, same as James and Albus do. He's only six, so it's too early to really explain to him that he's actually Remus and Tonks's son and that his real parents are dead."

Hermione sighed sadly.

"They all play with Etamin? He gets along with them?"

"Oh yes," Hermione nodded empathically, pushing away her sadness over the fallen, "Teddy and Etmain are very close because they're so close in age. James is three and Albus is just a tot. He's only just gone two years old. The others they play with are Victoire – Bill and Fleur's eldest daughter, and Percy's got two girls, Molly and Lucy. Victoire will be six in a few months. Molly and Lucy are four and three, respectively. George and Angelina had twins too – Fred II and Roxanne – they're three, the same as James and Molly."

"Bloody hell," Malfoy blew his cheeks out, "That's lot of Weasley rugrats getting around. Hogwarts is going to be swamped with a tide of ginger when they're all of age."

"I know," Hermione grinned, "But it's nice that they're close in age and all being raised close together."

Malfoy eyed her for a moment.

"You do realise, don't you, that when you talk about them you get that gleam in your eye that all witches get when thinking of kids?" he asked her quietly, "You claim not to want any more kids, but that look in your eyes suggests otherwise."

Hermione glanced at him, startled by his observation.

"How do you recognise that gleam?" Hermione asked him.

"I'm one of the most eligible wizards of pureblood society with plenty of witches who want to bear my children, Granger. I've had to learn to recognise that gleam so I know which ones to avoid shagging lest they trick me into knocking them up," he informed her, "But your answer begs the question of why you claim not to want more children when you're expression suggests otherwise."

Hermione bit her lip. She didn't know why she was talking to him. She didn't really want to seem like they could just discuss anything and everything. And yet, there was something almost comforting about talking to him. She'd never had much cause to speak to him in the past, and she did want to play nice so that dealing with him to raise Etamin would be easier.

"When I was young I always imagined having a large family," Hermione admitted to him with a shrug, "It was one of the reasons Ron and I married, actually. Despite feeling overshadowed by his siblings at times, he and the rest of the Weasley's all adore being from such a large family. Originally, when we first discussed relationship goals – before we cheated on each other and I had Etamin – we both agreed that a big family would be wonderful."

"So what's holding you back?" Malfoy wanted to know.

"Etamin," she told him honestly, unsure why she was sharing any of this with him but supposing that it would be nice if they could grow to be friends.

"You said you're worried you'll love any other kids less because they won't be as good as Etmain," Malfoy nodded slowly.

"I'm not saying I wouldn't be capable of loving more children," Hermione shrugged, "Or even that having each of them be individual and different would somehow strain my ability to care for them. It's more like…. With Etamin, I got perfect. Anyone who knows me at all knows that I strive for perfection. And I'm not saying other kids wouldn't be perfect in their own way… More that Etamin is perfect in his way. He's alarmingly clever, handsome, funny. And other children have that potential to be that too… but what if they're not as smart? What if they're pig-headed brats?"

"Didn't you just lecture me about how kids are their own people?" he reminded her.

"I did, and that's exactly why I'm afraid to have more. They will be their own people. And that means they won't be Etamin. I'm sure I could and would still love them unequivocally. But I'm terrified I'd compare them to Etamin, even subconsciously.""

"Not to mention that they'd be Weasley's instead of mine, and therefore inferior," Malfoy smirked and her and Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

"Yes well, there's also the fact that I've only recently returned to work after being on maternity to raise Etamin. I don't know, I think eventually I'd like more children, but not now. Not yet. Maybe not at all," Hermione bit her lip looking away from him.

"Have you told Weasley all of this?" Malfoy asked her curiously, "Have you explained those things to him? If you've been fighting with him about it, wouldn't it make sense to make him understand everything you just told me?"

"Of course I haven't told him," Hermione sighed, "He has a chip on his shoulder, as you've mentioned. If I were to confess to being fearful of not loving his sons as much as I love Etamin, he'd be hurt and think it was to do with them being biologically his. And he would resent Etamin all the more. I've tried explaining the idea of wanting to wait, but he rarely listens. He's growing restless with the rest of his siblings all breeding and he wants his own sons or daughters to be close in age with their cousins. And I don't blame him for that, I'm simply not ready but I can't tell him that without everything blowing up into a row and without hurting him."

"Yet you have no problem telling me," he said quietly, "I'm the bloke you barely know and shagged one time years ago and you can tell me your dark secrets, yet you can't tell your husband and best friend? That should tell you something, Granger."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

"Are you trying to encourage me to divorce my husband?" she demanded.

"I am, actually," he admitted and Hermione choked on her tea again at his honesty.

"WHY?" she snarled, coughing the tea from her lungs.

"Because I don't want him raising my son and I don't fancy the idea of my son having half-siblings with Weasley genetics," he admitted, "I'm also trying to be helpful and mentally prepare you for the blow up Weasley will have when you tell him that I'm Etamin's biological father and that I want to be involved in his life. Potter might've gotten by our rivalry, but Weasley hasn't. He'll always hate me – all the more for the idea of me shagging you and knocking you up when you won't let him do the same."

"You're a manipulative prick, you know that?" Hermione accused.

"Yes, I'm aware," he smirked, "It's part of my charm. I'm sure you'll get used to it over the rest of our lives."

"I don't want to get used to it," Hermione protested.

"But you will," he informed her, "We'll be co-raising our son, Granger. You'll spend more time with me than you will with Weasley – especially after you divorce him."

"Who says I'm divorcing him?" Hermione demanded.

"I do," he shrugged, "You will. You won't have a choice. All the reasons I've been mentioning you should divorce him are true. Not to mention that he'll never forgive you for shagging me. My offer stands, by the way. You and Etamin can move into the Manor when you've divorced Weasley. I'll even let the two of you have your own wing so you won't have to constantly deal with me."

"Why would you think I would want to go back to Malfoy Manor? Ever?" Hermione demanded, "The last time I was there was one of the worst days of my life."

"Where else are you going to go?" Malfoy shrugged, "More to the point, you were the one saying that Etamin needed a stable home environment. It simply makes sense. The Manor is enormous so you wouldn't have to put up with me all the time, and the tot wouldn't be floating between homes."

"And so you're willing to live with me?" Hermione asked doubtfully.

"I'll do anything for my son, Granger," he told her in a calm and completely serious voice, his eyes steady, his expression open and honest as he said that, "I might've had a warped childhood thanks to my families teachings and affiliations, but I can assure you that I know how to be a good father. Mine was one of the best."

"How can you say that?" Hermione wanted to know, "Lucius was a Death Eater and a vile, cruel bastard to everyone he considered less than himself."

"Not to me," Malfoy argued and Hermione noticed idly that he made no move to defend his father from her accusations, "In the end his misguidance from his own father landed us in hot water, but he was nonetheless a good father to me. He doted on me, taught me, kept me informed, played with me when I was young. I know you'll find it hard to believe, but behind the snobbish and pompous façade he was a loving father. I idolised that man. I still do, if I'm being honest. He's nothing like he was in my youth, but he did everything he could to make me happy."

"And you're not interested in teaching my child about blood prejudice?" Hermione asked.

"That would be detrimental, given that you're muggleborn," he informed her, "And I've done away with all that. As has my mother. Father is still a bit prejudice but for the most part we've all learned our lesson. Besides, what use is there in preaching to my son that witches like his mother are somehow inferior when you'd be right there proving those allegations wrong. As you have done since I first met you."

Hermione was shocked by his honesty and by the way he seemed to be complimenting her. She stared at him across the desk, sipping her tea thoughtfully. She didn't at all relish the mess to come and she didn't fancy having Malfoy be her partner in crime but it seemed there was nothing for it.

"Tell me what you think we should tell the press," Hermione said finally, holding his gaze, "As you've stated it's unlikely that anyone will believe that we went the route of anonymity and didn't know all this time that we shared a child."

"No, the truth won't do," Malfoy said thoughtfully, "They'll accuse one of us – most likely me – of having somehow known and taken advantage of you. Similarly they are unlikely to believe that neither of us would have made any effort to discover each other's identity. Especially given the clues."

"Clues?" Hermione asked, her brow wrinkling.

Malfoy gave her an almost pitying glance before he rolled up his left sleeves, revealing the faded pink scar where he'd been branded with the Dark Mark during the war.

"I don't know how you didn't notice it that night, to be honest. I didn't conceal it," he told her, "I'd have thought it would give away my identity. After all, I'd told you I was a graduating student and I was the only one in our year to be branded a Death Eater. You knew I'd returned to complete my Seventh year. You had to sit with me and work with me in some of our classes."

"I was too inebriated," Hermione admitted, blushing, "I'd had rather a lot of whiskey by the time you arrived, attempting to drown my sorrows, and I honestly didn't care who you were. I didn't want to know who I was shagging. I think even if I had noticed, I'd have ignored it and blocked it all out in favour of getting my revenge on Ron."

"The basis of such a healthy relationship," Malfoy snorted, rolling his eyes, "Perhaps it would be best to tell them we were simply drunk and the moment got the better of us."

"But I was dating Ron at the time," Hermione pointed out, "And it was public knowledge."

"Indeed," he agreed, "But there had been a few stories and rumours getting around that Weasley was sleeping around on you. I remember reading them. Skeeter was publishing them. Something about first hand confessions from two of his conquests bragging about shagging a war hero. Work with that. It's the truth that you did it to get back at Weasley anyway. Simply lie about the reason and the timing a little."

"The press reported on Harry and Ron being there that night for the ball, and on Ron being my date," Hermione nodded slowly, "I suppose I could simply say I'd caught him in the act – it's the truth after all – and that I got drunk and cheated in retaliation. But that won't explain how I've been lying about Ron being Etamin's father instead of you."

"I think in this instance it might be best to work on the assumptions Weasley will draw anyway," Malfoy suggested seriously, "He's going to believe that you viciously and vindictively chose to shag someone you knew he loathed. You could even claim that you believed Weasley was the tot's father until I confronted you about it. It's the truth, after all. Pretend you simply had no idea that the kid wasn't Ron's until I ran into you the other day."

"Only Ron will contradict that," Hermione pointed out, "He's known from the beginning that Etamin wasn't his child."

"Then lie and tell them you'd told him it was a possibility that he might not be the father. After all, you were shagging him too, so it's believable. And no one is going to doubt I shagged you because I've built a reputation for shagging everyone these days. They're going to call you just another one of my conquests," he warned her.

"No, it will be much worse than that," Hermione informed him grimly, "I've seen plenty of the stories about you and how some witches have even admitted to wanting to get pregnant – seducing you as a means to trap you into marrying them so they can get their claws on your fortune. I'll be accused of being some gold-digging whore – the only witch to have successfully outsmarted you enough to get pregnant with your child. Actually I anticipate rather a lot of hate-mail over it."

"You didn't actually know it was me, right?" he confirmed, looking at her oddly.

"Did my reaction indicate I'd known?" Hermione asked, offended, "I can assure you, Malfoy that no matter how it will be portrayed by the press, I'm one of the very few witches interested in landing you as a husband or getting my hands on your gold I have more than enough of my own gold and I've already got a husband."

"A philandering one," he pointed out nastily, "But I believe you didn't plan this. Though you probably are the only one smart enough to manage it. I don't know how I forgot contraceptive charms… and why weren't you on the Potion anyway?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

"I was away at Hogwarts and Ron was working for the Ministry. There was little point messing with my hormonal balance when my boyfriend wasn't around to be shagging. I stopped taking it when I returned to school and had only taken the first dose again graduation night. It's not effective straight away and I was too inebriated and too angry to recall the need for the charms."

"I'm bloody lucky I haven't landed in this mess more than once," he muttered to himself then.

"Are you sure you haven't?" Hermione asked him, "I'd hate to be surprised with random siblings of Etamin's cropping up all over the place."

"None that I'm aware of. Not that it means much since I wasn't aware of Etamin until three days ago. But I've had to deal with the accusation a few times in the past. They were always proved to be false," Malfoy shrugged.

"How fortunate for you that the one time the mistake was actually true, it was with a witch who'd rather pitch herself from the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts than marry you," Hermione sneered just bit.

"It was rather fortunate actually," he agreed, clearly not taking any offence, "Imagine if I'd impregnated someone daft like Parkinson. I'd hate to have a docile troll for a son."

"I can assure you that Etamin is anything but," Hermione smiled.

"What are you going to tell Weasley?" Malfoy asked her a little while later after they'd sat eyeing each other. Hermione could still hardly believe or rationalise to herself that she'd shagged Draco sodding Malfoy. More to the point, she didn't at all like to contemplate that she'd recalled the night she shagged him very fondly. She'd fantasised about shagging him again.

"The truth," Hermione sighed, "He's going to flip, but I'll have to tell him. Especially since you have no intention of going away."

"Maybe you should tell him somewhere that there are witnesses," Malfoy frowned at her a little, "Just in case."

"Is this you showing concern for my well-being, Draco Malfoy?" Hermione asked, smirking at him.

"Well… If it were me, if I found out my wife had shagged my nemesis and let him knock her up whilst refusing to let me do so, I'd be furious. Mad enough to kill, probably. As much as you and I don't care for one another, I'd hate to inflict his mother's murder upon our son," Malfoy hedged, clearly uncomfortable seeming like he cared.

"I'm not about to invite you along for the ride then," Hermione told him, "Otherwise Etamin might end up an orphan."

"Maybe you should draft a living will, bequeathing custody of Etamin to me - as his rightful father - in the event of your death," he suggested and Hermione suspected he was deadly serious, "At least until you're divorced and you can amend his birth records to indicate that I'm the boy's father."

"Actually we can amend it now," Hermione suggested, "I never put Ron down as being his father on his birth records."

"Just like that?" Malfoy aske, raising his eyebrows, "What happened to you not trusting me and wanting me to go away?"

Hermione sighed, getting to her feet even as she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. She sensed and migraine coming on.

"Honestly Malfoy?" she asked, "As much as I'm not thrilled that you are Etamin's biological father, the evidence is irrefutable. The two of you are identical. Not to mention, as we've unfortunately had to discuss, Ron is aware Etamin is not his son and is also pulling away from him emotionally. In such an event as my untimely death I would prefer to have you raise Etamin."

He gaped at her in complete shock for several minutes,

"You realise you just said you trust me with your son more than your trust your husband?" he asked her carefully.

"Yes, I'm aware of what I said. And while I would trust Ron to raise him if he were never to learn that you are Etamin's father, I do not at all trust him not to be a vicious, vindictive and spiteful arse to my son when he knows Etamin's yours," Hermione admitted, feeling ashamed of her own husband.

"Even though you think I'm a pureblood elitist and a complete wanker?" Malfoy challenged.

"You are both of those things – or were, as the case may be. The point is that you realised Etamin was your son and you still owned up. You marched into my office and your claimed him when you could've simply pretended not to know the truth. That tells me you're serious about this. Which suggests that – wanker or not – you would raise Etamin properly and he would never want for anything," Hermione told him seriously, "So right now I need you to make up your mind. It is unlikely that Ron will try to murder me, though he will be furious. I'd like to have you listed on Etamin's birth certificate now that we know you're his father. And as much as I hate to admit it, it's far wiser to have that particular hurdle taken care of before I tell Ron."

"You think Weasley would dispute the claim? Try to keep the kid? You think he'll fight you for custody?" Malfoy asked, his expression pinching at the very idea.

"I think that my husband can be spiteful and vicious when he'd in a foul mood," Hermione replied, "He would fight for custody to save face with his family and to spite me and, more importantly, you. If you're listed on the paperwork as being his father prior to the blow up, it will keep us away from some hurdles later."

Hermione picked up her purse and strode towards the door, her heels clicking on the office floor.

"Are you coming?" she asked him, "You'll need to sign the forms to amend the information."

"Oh," he said, following her towards the door.

Hermione removed the wards and left the office with him in tow.

"Boss? Is everything alright?"

"Listen, Becky, if Ginny comes by with Etamin, could you either ask them both to wait until I get back or could you watch Etamin. I won't be long and should be back before four, but if I'm not, can you mind him?" Hermione asked her assistant.

"I'd love to watch him, Hermione," Becky smiled delightedly, "I adore that boy."

Hermione smiled at her assistant. Becky had only been working for Hermione for one year – since Hermione had returned to work – but she was possibly one of the best things to happen to Hermione. The girl was young – fresh out of Hogwarts last year – but she was eager to please and she truly did adore Etamin. Her Hufflepuff nature also meant she was a very loyal assistant. Hermione had no fear that the girl would be caught shagging Ron or something equally terrible.

"Thanks Becky, I'll be back shortly," Hermione smiled tightly before stalking away through the Ministry towards the records office. Malfoy fell into step beside her and Hermione glanced at him out the corner of her eye only to find him watching her.

"Do you know what you're doing?" he asked seriously.

Hermione nodded sharply. She knew. She knew she was effectively undermining her own husband without even talking to him about this. She knew that in a way, she was choosing Draco Malfoy over Ron Weasley. She was trusting this man she hadn't seen in five years over the man she'd been married to and friends with for twelve years.

"Promise me you won't make me regret this," Hermione said quietly as she strode through the long, deserted corridor towards the registry office, "Promise me that I'm not going to end up in a custody battle with you for our son. Promise me you're not just doing this for some sly reason – like that you need an heir to inherit more property or money or something. Just… promise me you actually want to be Etamin's father and to love him and treat him right."

Malfoy stopped in the hall, catching her elbow carefully and pulling her to a stop beside him before manoeuvring her around so she could look directly into his stormy-grey eyes. Hermione blinked when he gripped her forearms lightly and stared at her seriously.

"I swear it, Hermione," he told her sincerely, shocking her with his use of her given name, "I just want what is best for our son. I don't want to take him from you. I don't want to use him for my own ends. I just want to be a part of his life and have him know I'm his father."

He held her gaze steadily and Hermione knew he meant it. She didn't doubt him. Biting her lip, Hermione nodded her head and he released her again, allowing her to continue on down the corridor.

"Can I help you?" a bored sounding wizard asked when they reached the office.

"Yes, I need someone to officiate some amendments to my son's records," Hermione told her, handing over her identification pass.

"Mrs Granger-Weasley?" he asked, blinking and Hermione eyed the man. It was clear from the way his eyes widened and he leapt to his feet that he was shock.

"Mr Malfoy?" he asked, equally as shocked and looking mildly alarmed by the sight of Malfoy standing beside her. When Hermione glanced at him she noticed that he had a tendency to loom as he stared down his aristocratic nose at the small wizard.

"Right this way," he said nervously, "Just in here. Please have a seat while I fetch your records."

"We'll both be needing to amend our personal records as well," Malfoy told him in a cold voice, "Bring those as well as Etamin's."

"Of course, sir," the wizards nodded, looking alarmed now before he scurried out of the room to fetch the records.

"Do you loom over people like that on purpose?" Hermione wanted to know when she'd taken a seat, noticing the way Malfoy had begun to pace the length of the room.

"I do," he admitted, slanting a smirk in her direction, "I've found people are less likely to argue or object with what I want if I loom over them menacingly. My reputation from the war is also rather well know, so many people like that little drone tend to fear me enough to give me what I want without botching it."

"You better not treat Etamin like that," Hermione warned him, "If you intimidate or belittle him I'll castrate you. Are we clear on that? If you ever hurt my son I swear to Merlin that I will destroy you and the Aurors will never find your remains. Got it?"

"And you grouse at me for threatening people," he clucked his tongue disapprovingly, "Well… at least our son will be able to stand up for himself."

Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing he'd taken her threat to heart without needing him to voice it. She could tell because he sneered at her. She recalled from the final year she'd spent at Hogwarts that he did that. Never conceded a point outright but instead deflected the question by sneering about something else instead – but only when he agreed with what was being said.

"Alright then," the little wizard came bundling back into the room, "What was it that you needed me to amend on the files?"

"I need to add the paternal information on Etamin's birth certificate," Hermione told him seriously.

"And we both need amendments made to our records stating that I'm Etamin's father," Draco put in, sounding more menacing than ever. The registry wizards gaped at them open mouthed in complete shock.


	6. 6: Earned It

**Better Dig Two**

 _by Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 6 – Earned It**

* * *

Draco stared at the wizard menacingly as the man gaped between the pair of them sitting in at the desk.

"Is this… true?" he asked, clearly shocked.

"Yes, it is true," Granger said firmly, reaching for the files, "We will be requiring that these records be formally amended. Do you have the required paperwork so that I can input Mr Malfoy's information on Etamin's birth records?"

"You… you're… he's…." the man looked like me might faint.

"Pull it together, you blithering idiot. We need forms to amend his birth certificate and I need to input on my records that I have a son," Draco snarled at him, snatching Etamin's records from Granger while the official startled and then jumped to fetch them the required forms.

"This will need to be changed too," he snapped at Granger, "I won't have my son carrying Weasley's name a minute longer. It will be amended to Etamin Antares Malfoy while we're here."

"Excuse me?" Granger hissed, snatching the record right back out of his hands and glaring at him.

"Listen, witch," Draco narrowed his eyes on the mother of his child in annoyance, "That kid is mine and he will not be forced to carry Weasley's name. Especially not with you divorcing the tosspot."

"Then I will amend it to Etamin Antares Granger," she sniffed.

"Granger," Draco warned, not at all liking her expression.

"Don't you take that tone with me, Malfoy," she hissed, "I'm not about to change his name to yours."

"He's my son!" Draco protested, "And if he's to be my bloody heir, he needs to carry the Malfoy name. And don't you even think about hyphenating my name with yours like you did Weasley's."

"I'm not depriving him of my surname when he's carried it all his life," she argued, "If you must have your name in there, then it bloody well will be hyphenated or you can forget it!"

Draco growled at her in annoyance.

"Do you pay so little attention when I speak?" Draco demanded, "Or do you simply mean to deny the tot the right to the Malfoy fortune? He has to bear my name to inherit. Not your name or some hyphenated monstrosity. My name. We're already pushing the boundaries through the fact that you and I had him out of wedlock. Don't make it any more complicated otherwise the Malfoy fortune will be passed right over him and on to some distant cousin of mine."

She bristled visibly.

"Don't glare at me, Granger, I didn't make the bloody laws. That's just the way of things in the wizarding world. Now if you insist on him also carrying your name then tack it on as a second middle name, just lose the hyphen and stick it in a different box," Draco told her, glaring at her and trying to intimidate her into cooperating.

"And then what's to stop you from trying to take him from me? I'm not stupid, Malfoy, I know how these things work. You and I being unwed means that if he carries your name, you have more right to him than I do."

"Oh for the love of Merlin," Draco snarled, leaning towards her as the official came back in, lugging several forms and looking nervous, "What do you need me to bloody do to convince you I'm not going to steal him from you?"

"Sign away your custody rights excepting in the instance of my death or imprisonment," she answered honestly.

"Are you joking?" Draco blinked at her, confused.

"No, I'm not joking. If you want him to carry the Malfoy name then you have to sign custody over to me. Otherwise it will be hyphenated," she replied evenly.

"You're a real piece of work, witch," Draco accused her, narrowing his eyes on the frizzy little swot. She clearly knew all the ins and outs of wizarding la on custody, rights and inheritance. And she was right. By law if Etamin carried the Malfoy name even though he'd been born out of wedlock, he would be legally a Malfoy and therefore under Draco's custody.

"Take it or leave it Malfoy," she retorted, "I don't much care about the idea of your family fortune not being passed down to my son. I have more than enough to leave him as it is."

"You?" Draco scoffed, eyeing her.

"This might surprise you Malfoy, but in the muggle world I come from old money too. A lot of it. My parents work only because they want to, not because they need to. As do I. I can assure you that with or without you, my son will never want for anything," she sniffed with all the air of a pampered heiress and suddenly Draco found himself eyeing her very differently.

He'd always simply believed that muggles were dirty and poor. She certainly didn't dress or act like she was from old money. She acted like she worked so hard because she had to earn her way in life. The idea that she was independently wealthy stumped him.

"Get that bloody form too, would you?" Draco asked the official in annoyance, it mattered more to him to have Etamin carry his name than official custody papers did. He had no intention of challenging Granger for custody of the boy. She'd raised him for the first five years and no matter what the law was, Draco knew that if there was one witch he could never usurp power from, it was Granger.

"Which form?" the official asked, clearly flustered.

"Forms to change the boy's name and forms to have me sign custody of him to Granger," Draco informed the little man in annoyance. He didn't at all like the fellow. He had piggy little eyes that seemed to water and he was rather squirrelly.

"You're not going to challenge me for custody?" Granger asked, surprised as the chap bustled off for more forms.

"I told you, woman, I have no intention of stealing him away from you. However in order for him to be properly classified as my heir, he must bear the Malfoy name. Custody won't matter when the two of you are living in the Manor with me anyway, because I won't have to fight with you about visitation rights if he's right down the hall," Draco shrugged.

"If you don't care about custody why are you so determined to make him your legitimate heir?" Granger asked, clearly confused and suspicious.

"Because I'm a spiteful bastard and entirely selfish and would rather have my fortune go to my son than some money-grubbing third cousin from some distant branch of the Malfoy line," Draco shrugged, "And because making it official that he is my heir will get my mother off my back about marriage and baby-making."

"I highly doubt that," Granger informed him, "She might let you alone about needing to further the Malfoy bloodline, but she's not going to let up in a need to see you wedded and settled with some lovely witch. And she probably wants more than one grandchild."

"Well, when she finds out about this I expect she'll set about ensuring you are that lovely witch, so be on you guard," Draco warned her mildly, rather enjoying her expression of horror, "Now hush those protests and warnings I can already see you formulating and let me read. I want to make sure all of this is in proper order. I won't have my fortune going to anyone but my son and I won't have Weasley trying to steal the tot away."

She bit her tongue on her retorts and looked at her watch, clearly fretting about the time and wanting to get back in order to meet her son. Draco didn't blame her. She fell silent as she read and filled in the forms that named him as Etamin's biological and legal father.

"This says that Potter is Etamin's godfather?" Draco asked, reading Etamin's file carefully.

"He is," Hermione nodded, "There's no one else I trust more than Harry and he's a fantastic father to his own boys. He's also already raising one godson. He would easily handle another."

"Even if he found out Etamin was mine?" Draco challenged,

"Yes," Granger nodded her head, "My understanding of Harry's opinion on you is that the two of you have buried the hatchet after what happened during school and the war. He'll be shocked and concerned when he finds out you're Etamin's father, but he won't be angry over it just because you're involved."

Draco nodded his head as he went about filling in the information on himself that needed to be included in Etamin's records before turning his attention to amending his own records to state he was the father of one son.

The official came back with the rest of the forms, sitting and puffing nervously as they filled in all the paperwork. Draco didn't like the clench he felt in his heart when he signed away custody rights of Etamin to Granger. She made sure to insert proper clauses that would ensure he would be legal guardian of the boy if she were to become incapacitated or if she died. Draco insisted on the one that meant that in the event of her marriage to someone else or, as the case may be, her divorce from someone else – her spouse had no legal rights to the boy's custody.

"Are you making his second middle name Granger or removing it?" Draco asked her seriously as he filled in forms.

She bit her lip for a moment, looking nervous. Draco could tell that even with the custody rights signed over to her, she didn't like the idea of the boy not carrying her name too. Not that he didn't understand.

"I… I'll take it out," she said finally, "Granger is a ridiculous middle name and he doesn't need to carry the name to still belong to me until he's of age."

"It does sound silly to have it," Draco agreed with her, secretly pleased. He had no nefarious reason for being so. He just liked the idea of his son carrying only his surname.

They went back to the rest of the forms in silence and Draco found himself sneaking glances at the witch opposite him. She looked different today than she had when he'd run into her in Diagon Alley. Much harsher. Her curly hair was dragged back into a severe bun, almost every curl accounted for. He said almost because one had escaped just behind her left ear and it amused him. The other day she'd been wearing casual robes too, but today she was entirely professional in her navy pencil shirt and fitted pink blouse. She had a white cashmere scarf wrapped around her neck too.

He suspected the difference involved the fact that she was the liaison between the Ministry and the magical beings that inhabited the world. While he didn't doubt her ability to be stern and controlled, no matter the issues that came across her desk, he did suspect it was easier to achieve what she wanted if she didn't have a cloud of frizzy brown curls surrounding her and making her look batty.

He hated himself just a bit for the fact that he thought she looked bloody good. Being a mother had clearly only helped her figure. And he recalled how nice a figure it had already been when he'd knocked her up. He would admit that he rather preferred the way she'd looked when dressed more casually the other day. She'd looked a bit tousled and it reminded him strangely of the night he'd spent with her.

Draco suspected he needed therapy when he wondered just how tousled he could make her look if given the opportunity ever again. Without the bloody mask this time. Rolling his eyes at himself, Draco wondered how it could be that he was sitting there thinking forbidden thoughts about the witch.

He'd daydreamed about the night he'd spent with her for years. Every witch he'd shagged since then, he'd compared to her. Her explanation made sense, of course. That she'd been so unrestrained because she had no idea who he was and thought she'd never see him again. At least, never see him and have them recognise one another and what they'd done. That certainly made sense to him. To some extent he'd done the same thing.

And since then every witch he chatted up was compared to the mystery girl and how wild she'd been. Draco could recall her intensity with perfect clarity despite the whiskey he'd had that night. He realised he might be in trouble when he found himself wanting to repeat the experience. She was a married woman, for Merlin's sake, and the mother of his son to boot. He ought not to be imagining such despicable things about the woman who'd birthed his son. It wasn't right.

But bloody Merlin's boots, he couldn't help himself!

How could he when he'd daydreamed about her for five bloody years? Fantasised, even. Every witch he'd bedded had barely held a candle to her and he had no idea why. It wasn't that any of them were particularly ungifted or unattractive or even unreserved with him. He couldn't rightly say what it was that had been different other than the anonymity of it all. Draco doubted he would ever experience the same thing. Not just because she was unlike to ever shag him again now that she knew it was him, but also because they would know who the other was if they ever did.

And she couldn't even be that open and unrestrained with her bloody husband and the bloke she'd known for twelve years. There was no way she'd repeat the experience and be that open with him again now. Sighing to himself, Draco finished the paperwork quickly, dragging his eyes off the witch. He wasn't attracted to her. Not really. It was just the memory of what they'd done that intrigued him.

"Right then," the official muttered, "Everything seems to be in order. When I perform the amendments this information will be finalised and recorded, is that clear? Anything falsified will be used against you in court."

"Nothing is falsified," Granger sighed, waving him on, "Just do the spell so we can be on our way. I have somewhere to be."

The wizard looked affronted but nonetheless he did the charm and the magic shifted everything into proper place.

"All taken care of," the official told them, "Will that be all today?"

Draco and Granger both nodded and Draco got to his feet. Granger thanked the chap for his time before following him out of the office. She hurried along as fast as she could in her pencil skirt, her heels clicking away on the stone floors. When she reached her office, Draco was right behind her.

"There you are Boss," Granger's assistant smiled at her, "You just missed Mrs Potter. Etamin's reading in your office."

"Mum?" Etamin's voice called out and Draco followed the witch inside, unable to keep from staring at the boy as Granger scooped him from the ground and into her arms with practiced ease.

"How are you my darling child?" she asked him, pressing a kiss to each of his cheeks while he wrapped his arms around her neck.

"I'm good. Me and Teddy flew today. James wasn't allowed yet, but Aunt Ginny said maybe next time," the boy told her matter-of-factly, looking pleased with himself.

"That's wonderful. Did you or Teddy fall and hurt yourselves?" Granger asked him, ignoring Draco for the time being. Draco didn't really mind. It was fascinating to watch her and the tot interact.

"Teddy came off twice," Etamin smirked, "He skinned his knee the second time but Aunt Ginny put some salve on it to fix it. They're only little brooms too, they don't fly more than three feet off the ground or go very fast, it's pretty difficult to fall and really hurt yourself."

"You didn't fall off did you, darling?" Grangers asked him, propping him on her hip as she spoke to him.

"Do I ever?" Etamin asked, looking smug. Draco smirked to himself pleased his boy was a decent flyer.

"Of course you don't," Granger crooned to him, "But you will one day and then all those taunts you toss at your cousins will bite you on the behind."

"I don't taunt them that much," the tot protested, "Oh, we have company."

Granger turned to him warily and Draco smirked at the pair of them.

"Hey, I remember you," Etamin said, squirming to be put down, "You're Malfoy. I met you in Diagon Alley the other day."

"That's right, kid," Draco grinned as the boy got free of his mother and came over to Draco, offering him a handshake again. Draco shook his hand smartly, grinning from ear to ear.

"What are you doing in Mum's office?" Etamin asked, "Are you a werewolf?"

"Why would you think that?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Mum meets lots of werewolves. Vampires too, and other creatures. But werewolves are the only ones that look as human as you do all the time. Though you could be part Veela like my Aunt Fleur. You have the right coloured hair for it."

Draco was shocked by the kid's ability to rationalise his reason for questioning him.

"Draco's not a werewolf Etamin," Granger told him, "Or any other kind of magical creature. He's wizard like you."

Etamin nodded thoughtfully before he grinned, "Nifty. But then what are you doing in Mum's office?"

"I'm here to meet you again, sport," Draco told him honestly, glancing at Granger over the boy's head for a minute.

"Me?" Etamin asked, frowning, "Why?"

"Actually Etamin, I need to talk to you about something," Granger told him, beckoning him over to the desk where she'd returned to her seat. Draco watched Etamin go to her, climbing into her lap with ease, before he retook the seat in front of her desk and stare at mother and child.

"Draco wanted to see you," Granger began but Etamin was leaning forwards and picking up some of the photos of Draco still strewn across Granger's desk.

"Is this me?" he asked, looking at a picture identical to his own appearance, "I don't remember you taking this."

The boy turned it over and read the back.

"Draco Malfoy, 1985," he read aloud before looking up at Draco, "This is you. And you look just like me."

Draco was astounded at how quickly the kid could connect the dots.

"There's a reason for that Etamin," Granger told him quietly.

"You looked like me as a boy, Mr Draco Malfoy," the kids said, eyeing him strangely now, "Or should I say that I look like you as a boy, since you're older than me."

"The second one is the right sentence structure, Etamin," Granger told him while Draco looked on with wide eyes at how clever this kid really was. He didn't think it possible. He'd sort of thought Granger was exaggerating when she'd called him a genius.

"I look like you the way James looks like Uncle Harry," Etamin said quietly, putting the photo back on the desk, "And the way Freddy looks like Uncle George…. Everyone always comments on how I never look like Dad, don't they Mum?"

"They do, sweetheart," Granger told him and Draco watched her eyes fill with tears as the boy began to tremble.

"Is this why you and Dad have been fighting about giving me siblings?" Etamin asked her seriously, turning in her lap to look at him, "Why Dad has love left over for others and you don't. Is it because Dad isn't really my Dad?"

"Dad is the man who's been raising you Etamin," Granger tried to explain, "But there are different meanings for Dad. Ron is your Dad because he's been the one who tucks you into bed and gives you baths sometimes. But he didn't contribute to bringing you into the world."

"Contribute means being a part of, doesn't it?" the boy frowned, looking like he wanted a dictionary. Draco blanched a little when he pulled a small one out of the pockets of his robes.

"Yes, sweetheart, it does," Granger told him, "Do you know what conception is?"

"That word has more than one meaning," Etamin told her, "This one relates to babies, doesn't it?"

"Merlin's boots," Draco muttered, staring at the kid wide eyes as he searched out the definition of the word. The kid was a fucking genius!

"Yes Etamin. Ron had no part in creating you in order for you to be born. He's been raising you and looking after you because he's married to Mummy, but he's not your father by the definition of being the person who helped Mummy create you," Granger told the boy and Draco watched as the kid froze in his search for a word.

"Being a father means being the man who helped a Mummy make a baby?" the kid asked, looking at his mother, "Like Uncle Harry helped Aunt Ginny make James and Albus?"

"Yes, that's what being a father means."

"But Dad didn't help make me?" Etamin clarified.

"No, sweetheart, Ronald Weasley didn't help me make you.

"Like Uncle Harry didn't help make Teddy?" the tot ascertained and Draco wondered if he might have an aneurysm. The kid not only knew that Teddy wasn't Potter's even though he called him 'Dad' – according to Granger – but he could connect the dots between Teddy and himself.

"Did Mr Draco Malfoy help you make me?" Etamin asked quietly when Granger could only nod.

"Yeah, sport, I did," Draco told the kid, giving him a small smile.

"And that's why I look like you?" Etamin asked.

"That's right, Etamin. Draco is your father. You look like him because to make you we had to use half me and half Draco. Do you understand?" Granger asked him, cuddling him closer.

"Dad doesn't love me as much as you do because I'm not half him. He wants to give me siblings that will be half him and half you?" Etamin asked, "He wants that because then they would be half him. Is this why he doesn't love me?"

"Oh sweetheart, Ron does love you," Granger protested.

"But not as much as he would love a sibling who would be half him," Etamin said, his little voice growing tight, "He doesn't love me because I'm part Draco. He wants to make babies with you that will be half him instead. Is this why you won't let him? Because you don't want him trying to replace me?"

Tears were slipping down Granger's cheeks now and Draco felt a lump form in his throat when Etamin's began to sniffle, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes as though trying to hide the tears.

"Yes, darling," Granger choked out, "Ron wants kids that will be part him. It's why he wouldn't give you the moon."

"Would Mr Draco Malfoy give me the moon?" Etamin asked, his voice growing thick.

"Buddy, I'd give you the moon, the rest of the planets and the entire galaxy if you wanted them," Draco managed to get out, his throat tight and his words hoarse with the strain of the lump in his throat.

Draco didn't know if he should be relived or disappointed when the tot let out a wail and turned into Granger's chest, crying hysterically. Granger cried too and Draco had to clench his jaw to hold back the tears that prickled in his eyes to see the boy so upset.

"Please don't cry, squirt," Draco asked the kid, getting up and moving around the desk to squat by Granger's chair. He looked to her for permission before brushing his hand over Etamin's hair and down his back, trying to comfort the kid.

"How… how can…" Etmain choked turning his face to look at Draco, his forehead still resting on Granger's shoulder and his teary eyes peeking at Draco, "How can you love me that much when you only just met me? How can Daddy have known me forever and not love me that much?"

Granger's sob twisted Draco's heart as she buried her face in Etamin's hair and Draco felt a tear slip down his cheek at the kid's pained question.

"Because your half me, Etamin," Draco told him quietly, "You're half me and that means I love you more than I've ever loved anything else in the world. Just as much as your Mum loves you."

"But Daddy doesn't?" Etamin asked and Draco looked up at Granger.

"Ron's not really your Daddy, buddy. He's been helping to look after you because he's married to your Mum, but you're not part him. He loves you in his way, I'm sure… just not as much as me or your Mum," Draco tried to find the words. He wanted to tell the kid the truth but he didn't want to hurt him any further.

He also wanted to wring the life out of Ron Weasley.

"Mummy, does this mean Draco's my Daddy?" Etamin asked, still peering at him.

"Yes, Etamin, it does. Do you want to call him Daddy?" Granger asked, her voice thick with tears. Draco fished the handkerchief out of his pocket and dried Etamin's eyes and dripping nose before folding the fabric and doing the same to Granger. He didn't know which one of them was more startled when she laughed.

"But if I call Draco Daddy, what do I call Dad?" Etamin asked, frowning now. Draco froze when Etamin reached out and wrapped his little hand around Draco's thumb, squeezing it tightly.

"Well buddy, that will depend," Draco answered when Granger seemed to overwhelmed, "When Ron finds out that you're half me, he's going to be pretty cross with your Mum. They'll most likely fight about it because Ron doesn't like me, do you remember?"

Etamin nodded.

"He called you a git before," Etamin ratted Weasley out.

"He'll call me and your Mum a lot worse things than that. He doesn't know yet that you're half me and when Mummy tells him he's going to be angry," Draco explained.

"More rowing?" Etamin asked pulling back a bit to look at Granger.

She nodded at him, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. When Ron finds out there will be lots more rowing. He and Mummy might not want to spend time together anymore."

"You won't be married anymore?" Etamin asked innocently.

"Probably not, buddy. He might never want to see Mummy again," Granger told the boy and Etamin looked confused.

"But he still loves you. He just doesn't love me…"

"He does love you sweetheart – just not enough. Not enough to want to see you much when he finds out that you're half Draco," Granger told him truthfully, "Dad might not want to talk to you anymore either, Etamin. Will you be alright with that?"

"But he's my Daddy," Etamin protested softly.

"Draco's your Daddy," Granger corrected him, "Ron is your step-dad."

"Do I call him step-dad?" Etamin asked.

"I suppose," Granger said, "Or you can call Draco 'Father' and Ron 'Dad'. What would you like to call Draco? You can call him 'Father', 'Dad' or 'Daddy'."

"What do you want me to call you, Mr Draco?" Etamin asked him and Draco felt stricken. He'd always called his parents by the formal title of Mother and Father.

"I'll answer to any of those names, sport," Draco told him, "Which one would you like best?"

"Can I use all of them?" Etamin asked shyly and Draco grinned.

"Of course you can," he nodded.

"What do I call… Ron?" he asked, looking uncomfortable calling him Ron.

"Whatever you like, sweetheart. You can still call him Daddy or Dad. Or if you want to you can call him Step-Dad. Or if you're comfortable with it you can call him Ron," Granger told him quietly and Draco realised with some certainty that she knew as well as he did that Weasley wasn't going to forgive her and accept Etamin now. She was offering the kid the right to call him Ron because soon all he would be was her ex-husband.

"I'm used to calling him Dad…?" Etamin said, glancing at Draco as though he needed permission. Draco gave him a tight smile. He was thrilled by the idea of the tot calling Weasley Dad still, but he understood. The poor kid was hurt and confused and if he was used to calling the thick bastard Dad, he could for a while longer.

"But you're still my Mummy, right?" he asked suddenly jerking back to look at Hermione.

"I am," she vowed fiercely, "I'm you Mummy forever and nothing will ever change that. You're half me and you're the love of my life, Etamin."

"I love you too, Mummy," the boy murmured, nuzzling his face into her neck and cuddling her again.

Granger watched him through swollen eyes over Etamin's head and Draco could tell she was a bit put out with him over his involvement in all this and making her son cry. Draco simply held her gaze, unapologetic for being the kid's father and insisting on being called as such.

"Mummy?" Etamin asked, "If Ron's not my Daddy, why do I have Weasley in my name?"

"You don't anymore, squirt," Draco told him softly.

"Your name is Etamin Antares Malfoy now, sweetheart," Granger went on, "If Ron decides to divorce Mummy, my name will change too. It will just be Hermione Jean Granger instead of Granger-Weasley."

"Why isn't mine Granger anymore?" Etamin asked, panicking, "Granger is you name. Why isn't mine?"

"There are big people reasons for that, Etamin," Granger told the kid, "You have to carry you father's name and not mine in order to be his heir."

"What's heir?" the boy asked, reaching for his dictionary again, "I thought that was what we breathe."

"Not air, sweetheart," Granger smiled, "H-E-I-R is how it's spelled. Look it up for me."

Etamin looked it up, wiping his nose on his sleeve when it dripped a bit and making Draco cringe, offering him the handkerchief, which the boy ignored.

"A person legally entitled to the property or rank of another on that person's death," he read aloud when he found the answer, "What's that matter about my name?"

"In the wizarding world there are rules that say that in order for you to be able to have Draco's things – his money or his house and belongings – you must be his legal heir. You have to have the Malfoy name in order to inherit it. Only the Malfoy name. Because Draco and I aren't married to each other, we had to make sure you would have Draco's name to be able to have his things."

"Is he going to die?" Etamin asked, alarmed, "Please don't die Dra… Daddy. We only just met."

"I'm not dying sport," Draco told him, ruffling his blonde hair affectionately, "I won't for a long time. But when that time comes, years and years from now, you having the name Malfoy will mean that you can have all my stuff."

"Do you have nice stuff?" Etamin asked with the sweet innocence.

"Some," Draco shrugged modestly.

"Cool," the little boy smiled again. "And this means I won't have Da.. Ron's stuff?"

"That's right, sweetheart," Hermione told him.

"But what about you Mummy. If your name is Granger and mine is Malfoy, people will get confused. Shouldn't yours be Malfoy too?" Etamin asked next and Granger's eyes widened in alarm, "Mine is Etamin Anters Malfoy and yours should be Hermione Jean Malfoy. Shouldn't it?"

"No sweetheart, a lady only takes a man's name if she marries him. If I was a Malfoy I would have to be married to Draco," Granger tried to explain.

"Will you be?" Etamin wanted to know, "If he helped you make me, shouldn't you be married to him? Why are you married to Ron?"

"I won't be married to Draco, sweetheart. Only people who are in love get married and Draco and I aren't in love. I married Ron because I loved him, even after Draco helped me make you. Do you understand?"

"No," Etamin admitted, "How can you make me with Dra… Daddy, but not be in love with him?"

"You don't have to be in love to make a person, buddy," Draco stepped in when Granger went scarlet, "When two people make a person they really should be in love and they should get married before they even think about making a person. But sometimes it doesn't work out that way. Me and your Mum were a bit naughty and made you in secret. It was so secret we didn't realise we'd made your together until today."

"How did you not know if you made me?" Etamin asked and Draco panicked realising this was fasting heading for talk of the birds and the bees.

"Do you remember your nature show?" Granger stepped in, "The one where they had all the baby animals and they talked about how they were made."

"When a mummy and a daddy got all cuddly together?" Etamin asked and Draco's eyes widened. Just what had the witch been subjecting his son to?

"That's right buddy. Sometime witches and wizards like to cuddle like that, and they don't make a person. But sometimes they do make a person. When me and Draco cuddled like that we made you. But then we forgot we'd cuddled until you and me ran into Draco at Diagon Alley the other day. When we saw how much you look like Draco, we realised that together we'd made you," she said and Draco marvelled at her ability to explain sex in such basic terms without actually lying to the kid.

"Oh," Etamin said, clearly puzzling it out and Draco found himself smirking at Granger, who was still blushing crimson.

"Want to cuddle again, Granger?" he couldn't resist taunting her and she swatted at him so fast he could only flinch from the hit upside the back of his head.

"No thank you," she replied politely, though she glared at him.

"So does this mean we have to tell Da… Ron that I'm half Dra… Daddy? Is he going to get mad and start shouting again?" Etamin asked, clearly moving on from talking about sex like any oblivious five year old.

"He'll shout, darling," Granger nodded, "Do you want to go home and have something to eat? I'll tell Ron after you're asleep, alright? That way you won't have to listen to him shouting."

"I'm hungry," Etamin nodded, "But when will I see Dra.. Daddy again? He doesn't live at our house."

"No, he doesn't. Depending on how upset Ron is with Mummy, though, we might have to move out of our house," Granger told him.

"And then we'll live with Daddy?" Etamin asked and Draco smirked at the kid's enthusiasm for the idea.

"We might, sweetheart," Granger hedged, "Draco's new to being a Daddy and having to work with Mummy about it."

"Oh. I'm good at new things," Etamin bragged and Draco snorted.

"I know you are, sweetheart. Daddy might not be though," Granger smirked at him over Etamin's head.

"I'm an expert at new things, thank you very much," he replied solemnly, "We'll work everything out properly once you've told Weasley about all this… are you going to be alright telling him alone?"

Draco frowned at the witch. He didn't at all like the idea of her telling Weasley alone. Especially with the kid asleep in bed. Not that he wanted Etamin to see her and Weasley rowing, but he didn't want to have the kid foisted onto him in the event that Weasley killed her.

"If you keep this up I might start to think you care for me, Malfoy," Granger told him rising from her chair and lifting Etamin with her. Draco got to his feet as well, his legs tingling from the prolonged squatting. It was clear she planned to leave and head home to feed the tot and sort Weasley out. Draco supposed he would have to go home and inform his parents that he was in fact the proud father of a five year old son whom they would shortly meet.

"Maybe I do," Draco shrugged, "Don't want the mother of my kid in any kind of trouble."

"I'm touched by your concern," she answered sarcastically, "I'll owl you when things blow over, alright?"

Draco nodded, reaching for Etamin and taking him from her arms. She clutched him for a moment before releasing him.

"Are you really my Daddy?" Etamin asked, reaching up and pulling some of his hair before leaning in and trying to see to compare them, "Mum? Mum are they the same?"

"Identical, Etamin," Granger told him, swiping up the pictures of him as a brat and putting them in an envelope. Since he had his hands full she worked the envelope into his inside coat pocket and Draco smirked at her. He didn't taunt her about getting her hands inside his clothes again, but he felt his smirk said it all. Especially when she blushed again. She was too much fun to taunt.

At that moment the door opened and Becky the assistant popped her head in.

"Boss it's after five… if you don't need me for anything else I' going to…. OH. MY. MERLIN!" Becky suddenly exclaimed and Draco glanced over at her to see her staring at him as he held Etamin.

Her eyes were big as galleons, fixed on him and his son and Draco knew she'd just spotted their likeness.

"I… I can't believe it!" Becky said, staring gobsmacked at Draco.

"Becky," Granger began, "You've met Etamin's father, Draco Malfoy. Haven't you?"

"Father… Etamin's father…" she was muttering, "Draco Malfoy is Etamin's father…."

"Becky," Granger tried again, clearly trying to keep the girl from going tin to shock or screaming in surprise.

"I… Sorry, boss, I'm just having some trouble. I mean, I know there were some rumours about Etamin not being Ron's kid but I never imagined…. Well I thought it was just idle gossip," the girl stammered out slowly.

"Draco's my Daddy, Becky," Etamin piped up, "We have the same hair, see?"

Draco winced when the tot yanked on his fringe again to show her the similarity.

"Etamin it's not nice to pull hair," Granger reprimanded gently.

"Oh yeah…" the kid said, releasing him, "Did that hurt Daddy? I didn't mean to."

"It's alright squirt," Draco told him, "Just not so hard next time, yeah?"

Becky was clearly going into overdrive. She looked like her eyes might fall right out of the sockets they were so wide.

"Ron's known since I got pregnant that he wasn't biologically Etamin's father," Hermione told the girl honestly, "To be honest I didn't know that Draco was either, until he arrived in my office earlier."

"Ron's going to flip his lid," Becky managed finally.

"I know," Hermione agreed.

"No wonder you flipped too. Bloody hell! Are you sure you don't need me to cancel the rest of your week?" Becky asked.

"I'll owl you if I do," Granger assured her, "Malfoy, hand me back my child please."

"But we can't go yet," Etamin protested.

"I thought you were hungry and wanted to get home so we could have something to eat?" Granger asked the tot.

"I am pretty hungry," Etamin nodded.

"Well come here then, darling and I'll take you home."

"Can't we eat with Dra… Daddy?" Etamin protested.

"Not tonight sweetheart," Granger told him, "Maybe tomorrow though. I have to talk to Ron tonight."

"Oh…." Etamin pouted for a minute before Draco heard his tummy rumble.

"Go on, squirt," he told the kid, giving him a squeeze, "I can hear how hungry you are. I'll see you in no time, you watch."

"Ok," Etamin said and Draco tensed in surprise when Etamin kissed his cheek before reaching for Granger, who took him happily.

"I'll owl you both," she told them as she made for the door.

Becky nodded and Draco followed after Granger and his son, still in shock to have been given a kiss on the cheek by the lad.

"If I don't hear from you this evening, I'll assume the worst, Granger," Draco warned the witch honestly, not at all liking the idea of sending her and Etamin home to Weasley.

She simply nodded, gave them and exaggerated smile and left the office.

"Do I even want to know how you got her pregnant?" Becky asked him, looking at him sideways.

"The usual way ones knocks up a bird, Becky," Draco smirked at her.

"Well obviously, but how on Earth did you get her to shag you?" she wanted to know and Draco wondered who this nosy little witch was.

"Is that really any of your business?" he asked mildly.

"Of course it is, she's my boss and I adore that boy," Becky informed him, "And so help me if you've somehow harmed either of them or intend to harm them after worming your way into their affections, I'll personally see to it that you never produce another child or look at another witch. Is that clear?"

Draco scowled at the idea of being threatened by the witch. It was one thing to accept threats from Granger. She was a know-it-all swot that he'd put up with for years and traded plenty of insults threats and hexes with in the past. And she was the mother of his son. That gave her some leeway. Not to mention that as much as he didn't like the idea, he was rather pleased that all of the people in the world who could have mothered his child, he was rather comfortable with it being her. This fiercely loyal little assistant was another matter. Draco didn't tolerate threats well at all. Especially not from strangers.

"If you think you'd have even the slightest capability of dictating what I can and cannot do, I can assure you that you're mistaken, witch. Don't threaten me again if you know what's good for your or I'll see to it that your life becomes very unpleasant. Is that clear?" he retorted in a cold voice, losing his smirk in favour of the menacing scowl he wielded so well. Becky blanched at his threat and his fierce expression, taking a few steps back from him in fear.

She didn't say anything else, clearly fearing he might grow violent if she did and Draco eyed her nastily for another long minute, watching the way she began to squirm nervously before finally he strode away, intent on Flooing home to the Manor so he could notify his parents of the newest developments and begin preparation for having one annoying know-it-all and his genius of a son move into the Manor with him.


	7. 7: Don't Need Your Reasons

**Better Dig Two**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 7 – Don't Need Your Reasons**

* * *

Hermione clutched Etamin close as she Flooed home to the house she shared with Ron. When they arrived she placed him on his feet and used a charm to remove the soot from their clothes from the journey. She was so preoccupied with ensuring that they were both clean that Hermione missed the sounds that were coming from the upstairs bedroom. She was following Etamin into the kitchen, her mind already turning to the idea of making dinner.

"Mummy, what's this?" Etamin asked suddenly and Hermione turned to him, her thoughts occupied by notions of a nutritious pasta dish. She blinked in confusion as Etamin held up something lacy in a gaudy shade of hot pink Hermione would never be caught dead in. She frowned in confusion as she realised it was a brassier

"Where did you get that Etamin?" Hermione asked, snatching the garment from him.

"It was on the stairs," her son told her innocently, "There are other clothes too."

At that moment the sound of an uttered shriek came from the upstairs bedrooms in a distinctly feminine tone that was not hers and Hermione closed her eyes in horror. Her heart began to race even as it seemed to sink into the pit of her stomach. Etamin took off running for the stairs, his little feet carrying him faster than Hermione's heeled boots could handle.

"Etamin, no, don't!" Hermione tried to shout as she raced up the stairs behind her son, trying to catch him before he could find the horror she knew must be going on within.

She could hear the sound of Ron cursing foully as Etamin dashed through the doorway with Hermione on his heels. He stomach twisted painfully and her heart shattered inside her chest as she entered the doorway and saw her husband hastily trying to hide his naked body while the little blonde whore on the bed was covering herself with a sheet.

"Dad what are you doing?" Etamin asked, "Why are you cuddling that witch who's not Mummy?"

Ron went scarlet and Hermione's temper overtook her heartbreak.

"You're despicable Ronald Weasley!" she snarled at her husband. Ron opened his mouth to offer excuses as Hermione noted idly that the witch on the bed was none other than Astoria Greengrass.

"Mummy, who is that lady?" Etamin asked, tugging on her hand.

"That's not a who, Etamin. That's a What. Would you like to know what kind of what she is?"

Etamin nodded.

"That's a whore, sweetheart. A nasty little whore who shags other people's husband. That's what whores do," Hermione hissed nastily.

"Oh, I know what whores are," Etamin piped up, "That word is in my dictionary. It means she cuddles people for money. Why is Daddy paying to cuddle someone when he has you?"

"Etamin..." Ron began, blushing crimson now while Astoria looked away, clearly mortified, "Hermione I..."

"Save it, Weasley," Hermione snarled, moving over to the dresser where she snatched up her camera before snapping photo evidence of the scene, "I should have known you would go back to being a philandering bastard the minute you didn't get your way. It's why I refused to have your fucking children. Etamin, go to you room and pack your things, sweetheart. We're not staying here with this filth."

Etamin did as he was told, sensing the cold fury in his mother's voice and knowing never to disagree when she was so angry.

"You bitch!" Ron shouted at her, "If you'd just give me fucking kids of my own I wouldn't have had to resort to this?"

"Oh, because I wasn't shagging you enough, is that it?" Hermione snapped, "I've been fucking you every day of our damned marriage, despite all those tarts you had years ago. Despite catching you with them. Don't you dare stand there and tell me you weren't getting laid enough. You no longer have any right to lie to me."

"What the fuck else am I meant to do Hermione?" Ron growled, "I want kids of my fucking own. I'm raising someone else's bastard with you, I bloody married you even when you let yourself get knocked up by someone else five years ago!"

"You did, and every day since then you have loved my son just a bit less," Hermione hissed, "You have treated him with contempt the more I refuse to have more children."

"When we married it was with the agreement that we'd have a big family," Ron growled in return, "And now you claim to not fucking want anymore. Afraid you won't love my kids as much as you do that little bastard!"

Hermione moved across the room so fast that Ron couldn't escape her before she slapped him with all her might, catching his with the wedding rings adorning her left hand and splitting his lip. Ron's head snapped to the side and he stumbled sideways.

"Don't you _ever_ call my son a bastard again, Weasley or it will be the last thing you ever do!" Hermione shook with fury, sparks of magical power coursing through her curls - which were working free of her severe bun.

"It's what he is!" Ron snapped, never knowing when to quit, "You fucked some stranger and let him knock you up without even getting his name!"

Hermione smirked so cruelly then that Ron recoiled from her slowly, but not slow enough for Hermione to reach out and grip his chin painfully tight.

"Oh but Ronald, I do know his name," she purred in her most dangerous voice, "Etamin's biological father is one of your favourite people in the world, don't you know?"

"Who?" Ron demanded, his face turning puce.

Hermione leaned in closer to him, her brown eyes boring into his blue ones until their lips were a hairsbreadth apart.

"Draco Malfoy," she purred with relish, rubbing salt in the festering wound their relationship had become.

Astoria Greengrass gasped in shock and Hermione's wand whipped up just a little too slow to keep Ron from shoving her away so forcefully that she stumbled across the room and her back collided with the dress painfully.

"YOU FUCKING SLUT!" Ron roared, his face turning purple as he began to quiver with fury, "You let that Death Eater scum lay a fucking finger on you?"

"Oh baby, I did more than that," Hermione taunted, "I let him fuck me like no one else ever has. I let him do things to me I never even told you I liked. And then I let him knock me up too."

Ron bellowed in a rage and Hermione knew that if he could find his wand - if it weren't the pocket of his trouser out in the hall where he'd shed them in a rush to have sex with a woman not his wife - he'd be duelling her fiercely. Hermione smirked cruelly, waving her wand to begin packing all her things into her trunk. All her clothes whizzed out of the cupboards, shrinking and folding themselves into her bag. Her shoes followed. All of her belongings in the house - the pictures of Etamin, her books, the knick-knacks and things she'd been given - they all came whizzing from everywhere and folded themselves into her trunk.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?" Ron bellowed at her, kicking around and trying to dodge the whizzing belongings.

"You made it easy, Ronald," Hermione snapped, "You cheated on me. Repeatedly. Do you know what it was like to be away at Hogwarts and reading stories in the Prophet whispering about you shagging this witch and that witch? Do you know what it was like to have you at my Graduation Ball - not having seen you in weeks - only to discover you shagging some other slut in a corridor? Of course I fucked the likes of Malfoy. And you know what? Not only was he better in the sack than you have ever been - he was a better fucking man to me that you ever have been. Why do you think I would prefer to have the kid of an ex-Death Eater than your brats, Ronald?"

Ron roared incoherently again, clearly much too furious to see reason or form words.

"Because I knew that eventually your children would be a disappointment when compared to his. Etamin is perfect in ways your kids could only dream of being. And I knew that eventually you'd go back to shagging tarts like this one. How could you not? You're a fickle, faithless philanderer with no respect for anyone or anything but your own inflated ego," Hermione snarled at him as her things finally packed. She sent them all down to the stairs to wait by the fireplace before stalking out of the room and into Etamin's. He was crying softly over the row she and Ron were having.

"Don't cry, sweetheart," Hermione told him, "Come on, come over here while I pack your things."

Waving her wand, Hermione packed all of Etamin's clothes and toys into his trunk. His books followed, everything shrinking down nicely so it would all fit neatly.

Ron came stomping down the hall, having located some clothing - clearly abandoning his tart to fight with his wife.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he snarled at her, blocking the doorway as she made for the door, clutching Etamin in her arms while he cried into his shoulder.

"Isn't it obvious Ronald?" she sneered, "I'm leaving you. I'm taking my son and I will be divorcing you in the morning when the Ministry opens. You and I are through. Malfoy was right. I never should have married a lying, cheating bastard like you."

"You're not fucking going anywhere!" Ron snarled at her, "How long have you known Malfoy was the kid's Dad?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business, Weasley," Hermione spat, "Now stand aside or so help me I will step over you dead body if I must."

"YOU'RE MY FUCKING WIFE!" Ron roared at her furiously.

"Not anymore, Ronald," Hermione said coldly, "You destroyed this marriage by being a cheating bastard. If you'd actually loved me, you'd never have strayed. None of this would have happened if not for the choices you made."

"Oh well isn't that a nice thing to tell you son?" Ron sneered coldly, "That if not for my behaviour he wouldn't exist?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes on him dangerously.

"Well then in that case I should thank you, Weasley. If not for what you did, I'd never have had the only person who's ever made me happy. So thank you Ron. Thank you so much for being a cheating scumbag and letting me catch you shagging some other tart that night, inadvertently driving me into Malfoy's arms and having a perfect son."

"You're not leaving me, Hermione," he warned her coldly.

"Do you want to bet?" Hermione hissed, "Let me spell it out for you Ron. I never want to have children with you. I never want to touch you again. I never want to lay eyes on you again. You repulse me. You and your philandering ways and your self-centred behaviour. The idea of staying with you makes me want to be violently ill. I will take my son and I will leave. If I never see you again it will be too soon. I'll be filing for divorce in the morning, so I recommend you sign the papers and let us both move on with our lives Ron. Or you will regret it."

"Is that a threat?" Ron snarled, storming closer until he was breathing down Etamin's neck - literally thanks to the way Hermione was cuddling the crying boy, "You can't just walk out on me and take your son with you! He's just as much my son as yours. I helped raise him."

"You neglected him Ron," Hermione snarled, clutching Etamin tighter, "You didn't love him like you should've all because you aren't biologically his father. Even he knew the difference. He was talking about it through the week. I can tell you it didn't take him much to see that even Draco Malfoy loves him more than you do and he's only met the bloke twice."

"You've been meeting with Malfoy?" Ron demanded fire in the blue eyes she loved so much.

"I have. He came by my office to claim Etamin as soon as he realised he was the boy's father."

"I'm as much his legal guardian as you!" Ron snapped furiously, "My whole family thinks he's mine!"

"Oh Ron," Hermione sighed pityingly, "None of those things are true. You have no rights to him. Draco is listed as his legal father. And you and I have both heard the whispers of speculation that a blonde haired, grey eyed little boy couldn't possibly be yours."

I'll never forgive you if you leave me! My mother will never forgive you if you leave me and take him with you," Ron blackmailed and Hermione felt her heart twist painfully.

"What do you think she'll say when I tell her you've been cheating on me with every witch who'll spread her legs for you?" Hermione retorted, "Now move!"

Ron made to come even closer and Hermione didn't trust him not to hurt her or Etamin. Not with that dangerous glitter in his blue eyes. Turning her wand on him, Hermione stupefied him, blasting him across the room. She hurried out of Etamin's bedroom and down the stairs. She didn't bother stopping to acknowledge Astoria trying to collect her clothing, trailing Hermione's soiled bedsheets as she went.

"Did you really shag Draco?" she asked as Hermione hurried over the fireplace.

"I really did," Hermione sneered, "You're despicable, Greengrass. You knew Ron was a married man."

"Who am I to say no to a willing wizard?" she retorted.

"A dirty little slut is who you are," Hermione snapped coldly, using magic to levitate her trunk and Etamin's into her wand hand before climbing into the fireplace. Etamin clung to her neck, his arms locked around her, his ankles locked around her back, as Hermione picked up a handful of Floo powder and shouted, "Harry Potter's Kitchen!"

They whizzed away, trunks banging before landing at Harry and Ginny's. Hermione climbed out carefully.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, standing in the kitchen and cooking dinner for himself, his wife and their three boys.

"I need you to block you fireplace to Ron, Harry," Hermione warned him, "When he comes to, he's going to try and kill us."

"WHAT?" Harry yelped, hurrying over to take the trunks she was trying to lower before staring at her. He looked like he meant to help her with Etamin too but the tot wasn't going to let her go this century.

"You've been rowing again?" he asked.

"I'm divorcing him Harry," Hermione corrected, "I just walked in on his shagging Astoria Greengrass in my bed!"

"Bloody hell, not again," Harry groaned, covering his face with his hands and Hermione felt something inside her twist painfully, "GINNY!"

"Again?" Hermione asked sharply.

"I... shoot Hermione, I'm sorry," Harry apologised, "When we were in Auror training he... well he..."

"I knew he'd cheated on me Harry. Not that you did me any fucking favours keeping it from me and letting me believe is wasn't true," Hermione replied, "Though I never knew he'd done Greengrass more than once. She was the tart the night of the Graduation Ball?"

"You know about that?" Harry asked, looking horror-stricken now and Hermione felt sick to her stomach. He'd betrayed her as much as Ron had. Hermione had always had Harry's back, no matter what. She'd always looked out for his best interests. And instead of returning the favour he'd betrayed her and let her believe Ron was telling the truth when he denied all the allegations about sleeping around on her.

"I think the more important notion is that you do and you didn't bloody tell me!" Hermione hissed.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked, hurrying into the kitchen and looking surprised to see Hermione.

"I didn't want to upset you, Hermione," Harry told her, "Please don't be cross with me. I knew he'd made some mistakes back then but I thought he'd gotten over it when you got pregnant."

"What's happened?" Ginny demanded.

"Hermione just walked in on Ron shagging Astoria Greegrass in their bed," Harry told her.

"I'm divorcing him, Ginny," Hermione told her fiercely, "I forgave his philandering arse when we were just kids - when I got pregnant with Etamin - but never again. I won't tolerate this. Not when he's only doing it because he's pouting that I won't let him knock me up with his fucking kids."

"His kids?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Oh come on Harry," Hermione scoffed, "I'm the brightest witch of the age! Did you really think I didn't know he'd cheated on me? I caught him at the Graduation Ball, but I didn't want to ruin the night and make a spectacle of myself. So I went to the room of requirement, got drunk and then got myself laid."

"By who?" Harry asked, "Etamin's not Ron's kid."

"Etamin's father is Draco Malfoy," Hermione replied curtly, "Something I didn't know until today - however the proof is irrefutable. That night I had too much to drink and I was angry and wanting revenge. I didn't actually know it was Malfoy at the time - we both kept our masks on - but I shagged him. He's Etamin's father."

"Are you sure Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"You shagged Malfoy?" Harry asked, wrinkling his nose distastefully.

"Yes, I'm sure. He ambushed me at the office this afternoon with a collection of pictures that I thought were of Etamin - only they were actually of him as a boy. They're identical," Hermione explained, "I need you to please keep Ron away from us until I can find a more permanent solution and can divorce the cheating bastard."

"You can't just ignore Ron, Hermione," Harry argued, looking nervous.

"Harry Potter that man is cheating on me! He is also now aware that Malfoy is Etamin's father. He's beyond furious. Especially since I've already amended the paperwork with the Ministry that names Malfoy as Etamin's biological father. It was previously blank. Ron has no legal right to my son and I will not allow that vindictive arse to hurt Etamin as a way of getting back at me. If you won't close your Floo and keep him away from us I will simply go elsewhere. Somewhere he can't find us," Hermione snapped shrilly.

"Bloody hell," Harry sighed, running his hand through his messy black hair before going to the Floo and closing it against incoming visitors.

"Hermione, you can't avoid Ron forever," Ginny warned her, "You're still married to him."

"Not for long," Hermione retorted coldly.

"Are you sure you've thought this through," her sister-in-law asked her softly, putting on a pot of tea as she spoke, "I understand that you're upset right now, you've clearly had a very bad day, but don't make any hasty decisions, Hermione."

Hermione glared at the woman across the kitchen.

"Listen Ginny, I understand that Ron is your brother and as such you have to look out for him, but he's cheating on me. For all I know he could've been for our entire marriage. I've been putting off having kids with him out of fear that he would do this to me again, not wanting the custody battle of my life over kids that are legitimately his. He wants kids and I can't bear the thought of laying eyes on him every again. I never should have married him."

"Don't say that, Hermione," Harry sighed, "You two have had your problems but…."

"I can't believe this," Hermione said, the knife twisting painfully in her heart, "What is the world coming to when the most trust-worthy person in my life is an Ex-Death Eater?"

"Hermione that's not fair" Harry snapped, his green eyes flashing at her, "Yeah, Ron fucked up. Bad. And if you two are no longer able to reconcile your differences then divorce is obviously the answer. But don't you dare march into my kitchen and accuse me or my wife of not being there for you and of not being trust worthy."

"Oh I'm sorry Harry," Hermione bit out, magic crackling in her rapidly frizzing hair, "What was I meant to think? Three people whom I love have been lying to me and keeping things from me. How foolish of me to question their trust!"

"As if you didn't lie to us?" Harry hissed right back at her, "You lied to all of us. I believed that Etamin was Ron's son. That he must favour your side of the family and your genetics. You lied to us about that. Don't you throw accusations at me or Ginny just because you're mad at Ron!"

Hermione growled in her throat, furious with him.

"Harry, maybe you should sit down," Ginny suggested, "In fact, why don't we all sit down. Let's have a nice cup of tea and stop jumping down each other's throats. Shall we?"

"You knew Harry," Hermione accused, tears prickling in her eyes now as the horror of the situation began to settle upon her, "You knew Ron had cheated on me. You knew and you didn't tell me. When I asked you if the rumours were true, you lied to me."

Tears slipped down her cheeks then, leaking from her eyes.

"You lied. You told me Ron would never betray me or hurt me like that," Hermione insisted and she watched the way pain flashed across Harry's face at her hoarse, choked words.

"You never believed me," Harry argued with her, "You just admitted you'd known all along. Why did you marry him if you knew?"

"Because I loved him," Hermione whispered brokenly. Etamin clung to her even more tightly as Hermione's knees buckled and almost gave out. Ginny caught her from behind, steering her by the hips onto one of the kitchen chairs.

"Etamin?" Ginny asked, smoothing over the boy's blonde hair carefully, "Why don't you go and find Teddy and James, sweetheart?"

Etamin shook his head vehemently, clinging to Hermione even tighter.

"I'm sure they'll be pleased to you see you Etamin," Ginny tried to coax him but the little boy simply clung to his mother even tighter. Hermione wondered if he thought that somehow being separated from her now would somehow break them all apart. He'd already had his whole world uprooted to learn Ron wasn't his father and Draco was. He'd also walked in on his step-father with another woman, and been subjected to the terrible row Hermione and Ron had fought. Coming to Harry and Ginny's – where he'd always felt safe – and having them both fight with his mother as well must be upsetting for him. Hermione cried harder at the thought.

"Come on buddy," Harry tried next, moving over to squat in front of Hermione, trying to peel Etamin off her. Etamin screamed and clutched her even closer, causing Harry to recoil in horror, "Bloody hell, what did Ron do to him?"

Hermione cried harder, clutching her child even closer.

The sound of the back door being thrown open made them all jump.

"I knew I'd fucking find you here!" Ron snarled, stalking into the house. Etamin screamed again, clinging even tighter to Hermione.

"Ron, you need to leave," Ginny told her brother firmly, "You can't be here right now."

"Don't you try and keep me from my wife and kid, Ginny," Ron said, shoving his sister aside as he stalked closer, rage glittering in his eyes.

"OI!" Harry shouted, getting up to intercept him when Ginny was slammed into the kitchen bench, sending pots and pans sprawling and causing her to cry out in pain, "DON'T YOU DARE SHOVE MY WIFE LIKE THAT!"

Harry punched Ron square on the jaw, knocking the red-head back. More blood than was already flowing from Ron's split lip sprayed as the hit landed.

"Move Harry," Ron told him, "She fucking lied to me. She shagged Malfoy and had that Death Eater's spawn and she never fucking told me! She made a fool out of me! Raising Draco fucking Malfoy's kid! The fucking gall!"

"Get out of my house!" Harry snarled at his friend, "You do not talk to your wife and child like that and you sure as bloody hell don't lay a hand on my wife. Not ever and especially not in my bloody house."

He shoved Ron hard in the chest and Hermione gasped through her tears when Ron levelled his best friend a glare before swinging back, decking Harry one and nearly sending the messy-haired man sprawling. Ginny began to screech, unleashing her fury on Ron with a nasty Bat-Bogey Hex – which he mostly ignored – while Harry and Ron began an all-out brawl.

Hermione's self-preservation instincts took over as she spotted Ginny having to dash away and intercept her kids before they could end up in the crossfire. Hermione stopped thinking rationally then. All she knew was that Ron was out of control and that if he got past Harry, he was going to hurt her. Her and Etamin. Anywhere else that she might go – the Burrow, Shell Cottage or even her Mum's – he would follow and the last thing Hermione wanted was any more of Ron's temper and their drama following them to other places.

She felt bad enough for inflicting this upon Harry and Ginny.

"Move Harry, or I swear to fucking Merlin I'll hex you!" Ron shouted, trying to throw the other man out of his way.

Hermione shot to her feet, her mind working furiously before landing wildly on the one place Ron Weasley wouldn't dare follow her. Throwing out her hand, she non-verbally summoned both her trunk and Etamin's into her hand.

"Hold onto me as tight as you can darling," Hermione whispered to Etamin as she crossed the kitchen at a run, trunks banging at her side. Etamin did as he was told, already clinging impossibly tight to her chest. Snatching up a handful of Floo powder, Hermione leapt into the flames.

"Hermione, No!" Ron and Harry both shouted at her, both of them turning to her and moving towards her.

Hermione's tear filled eyes, wide and terrified, closed as she shouted "Malfoy Manor!"


	8. 8: When I Look At You

**A/N: Cherubs! How are you? I'm sorry it's been so long between updates. I'm just rotten. But here is the newest chapter for you to devour. I promise I'm going to be better about updating more frequently across all my WIPs. Don't forget to leave me reviews with your thoughts and feelings on the chapter. They make me write faster =) A huge thanks to all of you who have been following this fic so devotedly, you're true gems! Much Love! xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Better Dig Two**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 8 – When I Look At You**

* * *

Draco Malfoy drew his wand, as did his Mother and Father, all three of them rising from their seats in the dining room at the sound of the Floo roaring to life. Unexpected visitors weren't welcome. Especially not at a time like this.

He'd just been in the middle of a discussion with them about Etamin, Granger and the fact that he was a father with a five year old son none of them had known about. Or, more precisely, he'd been arguing with his father over the fact that Granger was a mudblood and watching his mother fight tears over the idea of having a five year old grandson she'd never met.

Hurrying into the entrance hall outside where all non-specified Floo calls and entrance was directed unless one used express words for a particular part of the Manor, Draco was expecting the worst.

"Who the devil could that be?" Lucius was hissing to his wife and Draco ignored him. He raced into the room, ready to hex whoever it might be, but stopped dead at the sight before him.

Granger was standing there, dropping a pair of trunks and clutching Etamin to her chest. She was openly weeping and her eyes were wide and terrified even as she spun back to the fire, waving the wand he hadn't noticed her clutching to cease the connection of the fireplace to the Floo network to prevent anyone following her. Draco frowned in concern, pocketing his wand immediately as she turned back to the three shocked Malfoys.

"Granger?" Draco asked, but she was too busy trying to pry Etamin from her chest – something the lad didn't seem keen on. Hurrying forwards, Draco realised from the way she way shaking and sobbing that she was close to collapse. He didn't want to do it with Etamin in her arms.

Snagging the boy from his mother he heard her whispering, "Go to Draco, Etamin. Let go of Mummy. Go to Daddy, sweetheart."

Draco took him quickly, noticing the death grip the lad immediately held him in, one arm looping tight around Draco's neck and his legs freeing Granger's chest. Etmain's other arm stayed looped around Granger, dragging her closer to Draco as Draco propped the kid on his hip.

"Granger? What happened?" Draco asked, listening to the sound of her wand clattering to the floor. Her knees gave out beneath her and all he managed to do was loop his free arm around her waist, dragging her to him too before she could pull them all to the floor because Etamin refused to let her go completely.

"Bloody hell," he hissed, snagging the petite little witch to his chest and feeling her grip a fistful of his robes near his right hip, the other fisting Etamin's shirt. Both of them were still dressed in the clothes he'd seen them in earlier even though he'd left them two hours ago.

"Draco?" his mother asked carefully and Granger sobbed harder. Draco didn't have any idea what to do to suddenly find his arms full of sobbing witch and hysterical tot.

"Mother," he replied, turning the three of them carefully, letting Etamin cry into his neck while Granger sobbed into his chest. It was clear something had gone terrible wrong.

"Perhaps some tea and a Calming Draught?" Narcissa asked, snapping her fingers and having elves arrive with the things she'd suggested, "Lucius, be a dear and help them into the sitting room, would you? Draco, can you make it that far?"

"I don't know," Draco admitted before sighing. He would have to. His father was only going to be able to shove him and Granger's entire weight was being held entirely by Draco. Etamin wasn't going to release her either.

Muttering weightlessness charms, Draco scooped Granger harder against himself, sliding her up his chest enough that he could walk into the sitting room. Lucius awkwardly tried to reach for Etamin, who squealed and clutched both of his parent's tighter, and then Granger, who flinched violently as well. Draco shuffled the three of them into the room while his mother poured some tea, spiking it with the calming draught.

He lowered Granger back to her feet, noting idly that she was still in her work clothes and those strappy heels. Etamin's hand was clinging to the back of her neck, his fingers teasing curls from the severe bun she had her hair in for work that day.

"Come on Granger, get it together," Draco told her sternly, "What happened?"

"Don't let him in," she gasped, "He'll kill us. Don't let him in."

Draco felt his blood run cold at the raw fear in her ragged voice as she forced those words out and he realised she must be talking about Weasley. Subconsciously he clutched mother and son tighter, pressing them both to him more firmly.

"Lucius dear, close every fireplace," Narcissa commanded sharply, always level-headed in a crisis, "I have an idea of who she'd talking about and if he's mad enough to kill then he may try to gain entry to the Manor."

"You mean to offer them sanctuary?" Lucius sneered and Draco speared his father with a glare so filled with fury that the man bit his tongue on the rest of his words and went the fireplace, muttering the charms that would close the Manor off from all Floo travel and seal the wards against any but those already inside.

Draco drew the witch and the child against him a little tighter when he noticed the way they both trembled violently.

"I warned you not to tell him alone," Draco couldn't keep himself from blurting out as he pressed a kiss to the top of Etamin head before dropping another to Granger's. She hiccupped into his chest and Draco got the feeling his words had startled her out of her stark terror.

"Wasn't alone," she managed to choke out, "He was shagging Greengrass in my bed!"

Draco stilled against her and caught the way his Mother and Father did as well.

"Got home and there were trollop clothes everywhere. Etamin… he found them…" Granger rasped, her voice hoarse. Her fist clenching his robes tightened for a minute as she tried to pull herself together and he felt the way she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

"Mother, I think we might need that tea now," Draco murmured, aware of the silken fury lacing his words. His mother looking startled by his reaction but Draco felt it simmering in his gut nonetheless. He couldn't explain it. He didn't particularly care for Hermione Granger. In all honesty he didn't know her. And yet there was something about the idea of the pain she must be suffering right in that moment – in addition to his fury about his kid walking in on that wretched scene – that made him want to commit murder.

"Etamin, you need to let go now, sweetheart," Granger told the boy when she tried to pull back from them and was unable to.

Etamin did so, only of the wrong parent, and Draco nearly dropped him when the kid lurched in his arms, throwing himself back at his mother. Granger caught him, though only just. Draco also had to use his grip on her waist to keep her from falling. She was dangerously unstable on her feet, especially in those high heeled bootie things she was wearing. They were sexy as hell – if he was honest – but they seemed highly impractical for catching and handling children whilst emotionally over-wrought.

"I meant of me, sweetheart," Granger was telling the kid though she managed a laugh at the situation, stumbling a little bit at the surprise but righting herself with a little assistance.

"NO!" Etamin shouted, clutching her tighter. Draco smirked too when the kid reached back out and took hold of his neck with the other arm again so that he could practically hang like a monkey between both parents while his mother stepped away from his father.

"Oh, Etamin," Granger sighed, shooting Draco an apologetic and puffy-eyed look.

She looked like hell. She was covered in soot from what he suspected might have been more than one Floo trip whilst clinging to a tot and trying to handle two large trunks. She had mascara tracked down her cheeks and her eyes were bloodshot from crying.

Draco realised she needed him to hold the boy up while she reached for the tea-cup his mother brought to her, which she sipped from readily. Draco kind of admired her bravery. She hadn't watched his mother prepare the tea and she hardly trusted the three of them. They were ex-Death Eaters, after all, and Draco didn't think any of them had ever done all that much to endear them to her or to earn her trust. Draco had watched his mother make the tea though, just to be sure. He also felt the way Granger took another deep breath in, this one more effective at calming her – no doubt aided by the tea.

"Etamin, darling, you need to have some tea, alright sweetheart?" she crooned to the boy then, turning slightly and lifting the cup to Etamin's mouth. The boy drank the liquid carefully, not even spilling a drop and Draco was a bit impressed. And kind of grossed out over the idea of sharing a tea cup with a toddler. She was braver than him, that was certain.

"Mummy, I'm scared," Etamin whispered to her and Draco felt his heart clench at the admission.

"I know sweetheart, but it's going to be alright, I promise. We're safe here," she told him and Draco caught the questioning glance she shot at him. He nodded, agreeing with her words. She and her kid were safe at the Manor. If Draco had anything to say about it he wasn't going to let Weasley anywhere near his son ever again.

"I'm hungry too," the kid whispered next.

"Oh damn it," Granger sighed, looking up at him, "He hasn't had dinner. We walked in on Ron and Astoria before I could make anything…"

Narcissa snapped her fingers again and an elf appeared instantly.

"Bring food for our guests, Zippy," she commanded and the elf looked in their direction, "Is there anything the boy can't eat, Granger?" his mother asked sharply.

"No," she shook her head, "He has no allergies… but if you try to feed him broccoli he'll throw it at you. Don't go to any trouble. I was just going to make macaroni and cheese…"

Etamin sniggered through his snotty nose at that statement about the green vegetable and Draco grinned.

"I hate broccoli too, squirt," Draco told him, ruffling the tot's thick blonde hair before fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket and using it to mop up the kid's tear-sodden face. Etamin looked weary and tired, his face splotchy and red from crying and he still clung to Granger like she was a life-line.

"Broccoli is yuck!" Etamin announced, making Draco laugh when he pulled a face.

"What happened, Granger?" Draco asked her, offering her the other side of the handkerchief. Of course, she had her hands full, with her child and her tea cup, so Draco resorted to what he'd done earlier, wiping her wet cheeks dry like she were as much his to care for as Etamin was.

She looked at him as though both amused and embarrassed by his actions and Draco realised his parents were staring at him like he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had. He barely knew the woman. He'd spoken to her more today than he ever had during the seven years of schooling they'd shared or the subsequent five years since then. And yet here he was drying her face like she was a child instead of a grown woman and as though she hadn't – at one time – been his schoolyard rival and his enemy on the battlefield.

"Erm…" she began, suddenly looking awkward as though she'd only just realised that she'd Flooed into the home of people who were practically strangers to her. Draco could see her mind working and it was clear she really didn't want to go blabbing all her secrets to total strangers. Worse, to people who'd once looked on while she was tortured and yet had done nothing.

"You got home and Weasley was shagging Greengrass?" he reminded her that she'd already shared that part.

"Right… yes. Well… I was in the kitchen planning dinner and Etamin came in clutching lingerie that I certainly don't own…" Granger began.

"It was a horrid shade of pink," Etamin told him seriously, still swinging from his neck like a monkey, he seemed to be trying to squirm out of the hold Granger had on his lower half so he could actually dangle between the two of them with one arm wrapped around the back of each of their necks.

"Like fuschia?" Draco asked, engaging the boy when he noticed Granger needed a moment to compose herself.

"I don't know what colour fuschia is," Etamin told him, shrugging, "But it was the type of pink that werewolf lady who comes into Mummy's work sometimes likes to wear. She wears her hair in plaits with ribbons in that same horrid shade and she has a handbag and shoes like it too. It was horrible."

"Lavender Brown?" Draco asked, glancing at Granger for confirmation, trying to think of the only woman he knew who would openly wear such a colour who was also a werewolf.

"That's who he is was talking about, but it was Astoria Greengrass in bed with my husband," Granger sighed, "I almost wish it had been Lavender. Then I could have made her life really bloody complicated. Greengrass will be much harder to strike back at inadvertently."

Draco was surprised by the very Slytherin sentiment.

"Less likely to see you fired for failing to be impartial," Lucius tossed in from where he'd joined Narcissa on the couch. Draco eyed both of his parents and found them both watching the three of them with keen interest, their sharp eyes assessing the situation very carefully. Draco could practically see the cogs turning in his mother's mind as she plotted to set him up with Granger and thus marry the mother of his heir.

"That's true. And if I bide my time long enough no one will point fingers at me when something dreadful befalls that little tart," Granger mused.

"Getting back to what you're doing sobbing in my living room?" Draco nudged the conversation back on track, alarmed slightly by her vicious musing.

"Oh… right, yes. Well, before I could even comprehend that Etmain was handing me lingerie that didn't belong to me and claiming he'd found it on the stairs we heard vocalisations from the bedroom and Etamin went racing up the stairs to find Ron and Astoria in bed together. I have photo evidence too, should he try to deny it when I use it as leverage to properly screw him over in the divorce," Granger smirked nastily and he was alarmed when Etamin mimicked the expression almost to perfection though looking much more like Draco himself than like his mother.

"As you can imagine things spun out of hand rather quickly. I accused him of being a spiteful bastard who was pouting over me denying him more children because Merlin knows I never deprived him of sex," Granger said and she seemed to be entering lecture mode of some kind the way she'd always done at Hogwarts when answering questions, going off on tangents and providing entirely too much information.

"Should we be discussing this in front of the boy?" Narcissa intervened, looking alarmed.

"He'll just looked up the words later after hearing them bandied about so much tonight," Granger waved a dismissive hand and Draco grunted slightly when the kid suddenly released Granger's neck but looped his legs around the woman so he could fish his dictionary out of his pocket with his now freed hand. Draco caught the alarmed expression on his parent's faces. He hadn't gotten around to the bit where Etamin was a genius yet.

"Anyway, I told him he was being an arse and that this scenario was exactly why I'd been denying him kids of his own," Granger went on as though unconcerned by Etamin's actions or by Narcissa's interruption.

"I also informed him that the very reason I would be divorcing him was because I didn't want anything else to do with him. Things spiralled out of hand quickly and he accused me of being more of a slut than him for not even knowing who had fathered Etamin. As you can possibly imagine, I rubbed salt into that festering wound particularly viciously. If I were you, I'd avoid Ron Weasley for possibly the rest of time. He lost it after that. He called Etamin a little bastard and I slapped him. He shoved me across the room and into the dresser so I packed my things."

She paused to draw breath and Draco didn't know if it was the tea or the retelling but she seemed to be regaining complete control of herself as she went on.

"When he found pants he came after me while I was in Etamin's room packing his things into his trunk and he tried to bar us from leaving. He tried to blackmail me by threatening me with how his mother would hate me when she learned I'd lied and that Etamin was yours and not his," she nodded at Draco, "Eventually more things were said that were perhaps unwise on my part, because I had to Stupefy him to get out of there in one piece."

"He tried to attack you?" Draco demanded, "He shoved you into something and threatened Etamin."

"He didn't threaten," Granger shook her head, ever one for ensuring the facts were straight, "But he looked menacing and like he wanted to hurt us. While he was unconscious I Flooed to Harry's. But when I got there it was just more rowing. Harry mentioned knowing about Ron's affairs in the past and keeping them from me. Ginny tried to insist I was overreacting and needed not to make rash decisions – always one to defend her stupid brother even when he's wrong. Eventually I convinced Harry to close his Floo from my place so Ron wouldn't be able to get through and then we fought some more about my inability to trust any of the people in my life I'm supposed to be able to trust because they'd all betrayed me."

She stopped then to take some more sips of her tea though Draco knew she wasn't finished. He could hear Etamin looking up the definition for all the words he didn't know, muttering the meanings under his breath as he read them aloud to himself.

"I was distraught and sobbing by then, and Etamin was terrified because of all the yelling. Ron showed up and barged into the kitchen. Ginny – who had been talked around to my side somewhat by then – tried to intercept him and get him to leave. Ron threw her against the kitchen counters and sent pots and pans scattering everywhere. And naturally Harry went ballistic about Ron's treatment of Ginny. When Harry wouldn't let up or let him by so he could reach me – all the while shouting about how Etamin was a little bastard and not his son but that he might fight for him anyway even if he was Death Eater spawn – Ron punched Harry and it devolved from there. Harry punched him back and they were having a fist fight. Ginny hexed Ron but then got called away to intercept her kids before they could get in harm's way."

She took another sip of tea while Draco's blood began to boil.

"Anyway, that was around the time I panicked. I could see murder in his eyes. If he got through Harry I knew Ron would hurt me, and Etamin too probably. I ran. I just grabbed our trunks and ran to the fireplace. I knew that if I went to the Burrow or Shell cottage or even my Mum and Dad's Ron would follow us. So I came here…"

"Did you just say," Draco began, his voice low and furious, his body shaking with anger, "That that violent, Weasel bastard called my son _Death Eater spawn_?"

Granger glanced at him, her eyes widening in concern.

"Oh… yes, I did, didn't I?" she murmured, "Well, it's what he said…. No. Don't even think about it Malfoy."

Draco glared at her hand when she reached out and gripped his forearm tightly before he could take a single step, planning to Floo to wherever the arse was and hexed him into oblivion. Draco had never been so angry. Not in all his life.

"Get your hand off me Granger," Draco hissed dangerously.

"No. You're currently holding my son. You will not think violent thoughts while you do so. I'm doing enough of that for the both of us," she snapped, indicating to Etamin, who was currently in the process of trying to find a definition for the word Death. Draco realised he was trying to find Death Eater in the dictionary and he felt a terrible twist of guilt and shame inside his gut.

Scowling at her fiercely for a moment, Draco pried Etamin the rest of the way off her, releasing his steadying hold on her to clutch the kid. He squirmed a bit before reversing the hold he'd had on them. He wrapped his little legs around Draco's waist but switched his dictionary to his other hand before slinging his arm around Granger's neck. She smiled a little at the kid, now distracted completely by his dictionary.

"Is he always that clingy?" Lucius asked in something of a sneer.

"He's been through hell this evening, Mr Malfoy," Granger retorted curtly, "He's learned today that the man he thought to be his father was not at all his father and endured the horror of his step-father turning on him and his mother, in addition to seeing two other of his role models shouting and rowing with his mother. If he's feeling a need for closeness and some stability in his life, I shall not deny him that."

Draco smirked to himself over his father's momentary expression of shock as Granger put him in his place. No one ever spoke to him like that anymore except Naricssa. Not since the war. And Narcissa was still somewhat polite and less vicious in her tone. Draco smirked. It had been too long since his father dealt with brash and rude Gryffindors apparently.

"I assume you're here to take me up on my offer about you moving in with the kid?" Draco asked her seriously over Etamin's head, noting that the kid was clinging to him tightly with his legs, his hand fidgeting with something on Granger and thus not holding on. He realised what it was when Granger's long chestnut curls suddenly tumbled free of the harsh bun she'd worn it in earlier, sending them cascading down her back and about her shoulders.

They curled wildly – her core magic and her emotional distress causing them to frizz as they used to Potions lessons.

"To be honest I didn't even think about it," Granger admitted, "I just panicked and needed to get to somewhere that I doubted Ron would follow."

"But you do need somewhere to stay now?" Draco ascertained, shifting Etamin slightly on his hip and noting the way the kid was dragging his fingers through Granger's long loose curls. It seemed to calm him and Draco found his fingers itching to do the same thing. When he'd shagged her all those years ago her hair had been straight and pinned in an elaborate style. He found himself wanting to twirl each long curl around his finger.

"Well, yes, I suppose we do," she admitted, "I mean to file for divorce in the morning just as soon as the Ministry opens."

"And I'll bet you told Weasley as much, didn't you?" Draco asked, frowning now.

"Of course I did," she answered.

"Do you actually believe I'm going to let you leave the house to go to somewhere you specifically told a violent lunatic you'd be?" he asked her seriously.

"Do you imagine I'm partial to obeying your orders?" she retorted, raising her eyebrows challengingly.

"Oh, well then by all means," Draco bit out sarcastically, "Please, do go out and meet the idiot and give him the chance to murder you. I'll be sure to start warning Etamin that he has to live without his mother, shall I?"

Etamin's head snapped up at his words.

"Mummy, you can't go," he told her, "Ron will hurt you. He wanted to hurt both of us. You said so. You can't leave me!"

Granger glared at Draco for a moment before turning her attention to her son and smiling kindly.

"Everything will be fine sweetheart, I promise."

"Mistress?" an elf suddenly interrupted from the doorway, "Dinner for your guests is served in the dining room."

Hermione looked in the direction of the elf before taking Etamin's dictionary from him and tucking it back into his pocket. She pried the boy off of Draco and Draco smirked when the kid didn't much want to let go of him either but allowed her to move him. No one spoke as Draco led the way into the dining room, his parents following after Granger as she carried Etamin.

"Zippy?" Draco asked as he waved Granger towards the table where two bowls of pasta had been laid out for her and Etamin.

The elf popped back into the room.

"Prepare the maternity suite in my wing for Miss Granger and my son, Etamin," Draco commanded the elf.

"Maternity suite?" Granger asked, her eyes widening.

Draco smirked at her reaction.

"Relax, witch, it only means the rooms that allow you a suite that will interconnect with a bedroom for Etamin," he informed her, catching the sly smirk on his mother's lips before she hid it quickly. His father, on the other hand, looked horrified by the sight of a mudblood sitting at their dining table. Draco imagined it was probably the first time in the history of the entire Manor. He stared the man down when Lucius opened his mouth as though intending to say something about that very fact.

"Right. Well... I mean, I didn't come here looking to actually accept your offer, Malfoy," she told him.

"We agreed that you didn't want Etamin having a broken home life. And that the best way to make him feel like he has a home that he belongs in is to have you both live here. It's not like you can go back to where you were living with Weasley."

"But I..." she protested weakly, seating Etamin in the chair next to hers when she finally managed to pry the tot off her. He picked up his fork in his left-hand and dug into his food, the other hand still hanging onto one of Granger's long curls. Draco marvelled at the length. It easily fell to her waist, allowing the child to hold it without yanking on it or hurting her. Etamin was twirling the curl around and around his fingers, unwinding it only to wrap it around his finger again.

He did it distractedly, as though he wasn't even that aware of doing so and Granger didn't seem to mind.

"Pardon the intrusion, Miss Granger," Narcissa interrupted and Draco glanced over at her, "But it merely makes sense for you to stay here. As you've clearly already discussed, you and Draco are both Etamin's parents and it's important he be raised by both of you. That is best achieved if you live under the same roof…. And it's not as though we haven't the room."

"Dear, I don't think…" Lucius began and Draco wasn't the only one to glare in his direction.

"I don't want to be a burden," Granger said softly, looking between the three Malfoys carefully, "And it's not as though I don't have other options. I don't know why I didn't think of it actually… Etamin and I could move to my parent's country home outside Brocklehurst. Ron's never been there… to be honest I never told him about my family's wealth."

Draco eyed her speculatively for several long minutes, not sure what to say. He didn't want her to leave. He wanted her stay. To live with him. Not so much because he was overly interested in Granger – more because he wanted to be a good father and the best way to do that was if he had access to his son at all times.

"Well, at least stay tonight," Narcissa suggested soothingly, "It's much too late to go running off anywhere again. Etamin could probably use a bath and a good sleep. Honestly, Miss Granger you look like you could benefit from those things too. You've had an emotionally trying day, it seems."

Granger nibbled her bottom lip thoughtfully before she began to nod her head slowly in agreement. Draco hid his smirk of triumph, already planning how best to convince her to stay longer than just one night.


	9. 9: All For Believing

**A/N: Hello my darlings! I'm so sorry this update took so long, but thank you for all your encouragement. I should warn you that this chapter might give you cavities with it's sweetness, but I felt that after so much drama and angst, we were due something a little less filled with wretchedness. I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this! Much love! xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Better Dig Two**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 9: All for Believing**

* * *

Hermione sighed as she entered the suite Malfoy had asked the elves to prepare for her. It was lavishly decorated in darker shades – the carpet a deep shade of forest green, the walls a dark charcoal and the wooden furnishing and trim around the fireplace a deep ebony. She found she preferred them to lighter colours, realising the room had been purposely coloured this way to make the enormous space feel less empty and less daunting.

"This will be your room Granger," Malfoy told her as he showed her through, "And over here, through this door, is Etamin's room."

He led them across the room towards the door, opening it wide and leading them inside.

"This is for me?" Etamin asked, clearly excited.

His room was decorated in differing shades of blue and green. The carpet matched hers but the walls were a light shade of sky blue. Along one wall on the far side of the room was a mural of a forest filled with magical creatures that moved like any magical painting or photograph. Etamin gasped in surprise when a Centaur in the painting waved at him. He waved back at the painting enthusiastically.

"That's right, kid," Malfoy was saying to Etamin, "And my room is just across the hall from your Mum's door, alright? If you need anything or you want to see me, you can come right over, if you like."

Hermione glanced at him sharply to learn that his room would be directly across from hers. She hadn't signed up for that.

"I seem to recall being promised that if I agreed to move in here, I wouldn't have to see you all the time," she told him dryly when Etamin ran over to begin exploring the walk in robe and en suite his room was equipped with.

"I did suggest that," he agreed, smirking at her, "But you haven't agreed to live here with any kind of permanence. Only to stay awhile. We can revisit the issue if you decide you're staying – which you really should," he informed her, "Until then you need to be near me because otherwise you might get lost inside the Manor and I'd hate to have either of you wandering off somewhere you shouldn't. The Manor isn't the safest place in the world and there are sections where you or Etamin might get yourselves into some trouble."

"Mummy can we stay forever?" Etamin shouted and Hermione looked over to see him climbing the drapes surrounding the four-post bed, pulling himself up them to swing from the curtain rail like a monkey.

"Etamin Antares Gra.. Malfoy, what do you think you're doing swinging from those drapes? Get down this minute before you break them!" Hermione scolded him, tripping over the change to his name when she sought to reprimand him by using his full name to indicate the amount of trouble he was in. She caught the smirk on Malfoy's face to hear her rounding on him and using his full legal name.

"But Mummy…." Etamin whined as he dropped back to the bed and landed smoothly on his feet.

"He won't break it," Malfoy muttered to her, too low for Etamin to hear, "Trust me Granger, he's not the first Malfoy son to swing from those drapes."

"It's impolite to climb all over someone else's furniture like that," she continued to reprimand Etamin, ignoring Draco for the moment, "Now, why don't you go into the bathroom there and begin pouring yourself a bath so you can get ready for bed?"

"But I can't go to bed now, Mummy" Etamin protested, looking stricken by the very idea, "I have too much exploring to do."

"No exploring, buddy," Malfoy beat her to that rule, "This isn't like a normal house. Malfoy Manor is big and some of the rooms are unsafe for people to go into, at present. Promise me that you won't go anywhere in the Manor but this suite or mine across the hall unless I'm with you."

Etamin stared at him solemnly, clearly surprised to be being given rules by Draco and Hermione raised her eyebrows, waiting to see if Etamin would agree to the rule. He was usually very good at following rules, but he didn't know Draco very well just yet. Not that it had stopped him from crawling all over him downstairs like Malfoy was a jungle-gym.

"Will you take me exploring tomorrow?" Etamin asked rather than agreeing to the rule and Hermione watched Malfoy's eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, clearly picking up on the fact that he hadn't readily agreed but instead was bargaining to be given something in return for his agreement. Hermione couldn't tell if Malfoy was pleased that it made her son all the more Slytherin seeming and all the more like Draco himself or if he was bothered by the fact that his son clearly didn't fully respect his authority just yet.

Shifting just a little bit just before Malfoy could open his mouth – no doubt to agree to Etamin's suggestion – Hermione drew his attention to her. His grey eyes darted to her face and Hermione shook her head almost imperceptibly. If he agreed to Etamin's terms right out the gate like that Etamin would walk all over him. Malfoy narrowed his eyes further.

"If you go wandering off by yourself inside this house, you'll get lost," Malfoy told him instead, "You'll get yourself turned around in the attic or down in the dungeons and then we'll never find you. Do you want that? You would starve to death and no one would be able to hear you call for help or cry when you were lost. Or worse, one of the ghouls in the attic might try to eat you. And there's a nasty poltergeist currently contained with some very powerful spells in the dungeons. He'd pull your nose right off your little face. Do you want to risk being noseless like You-Know-Who for the rest of your days Etamin?"

Etamin paled slightly at the idea.

"But if you show me…." he said slowly, clearly trying to rationalise why it would be best if Draco agreed to showing him where everything was and to the idea of taking him exploring rather than having to agree not to go off searching by himself.

"I will take you through the parts that I feel you need to know about in the coming days, should your mother decide you will both be staying that long. But if you wander off without me and get lost you might never see Mummy again," Malfoy insisted, "Do you understand me, Etamin? You are _not_ to explore unless I am escorting you."

Etamin seemed to realise the situation was direr than any five year old ought to be able to recognise and he nodded his head.

"I'll stay here or with you, Father, I promise," he replied, lowering his gaze to look at his feet and looking contrite – or, as contrite as any five year old could while standing on top of his bed and still wearing his shoes.

"Good," Malfoy nodded, "And if you're a really good boy, I might take you flying tomorrow."

Hermione smirked when Etamin's head snapped back up, his eyes wide with excitement and happiness despite having been scolded. She could tell from the way Malfoy smiled in return at the kid that Malfoy had noted the way Etamin had called him Father instead of Daddy, clearly using the different term to recognise him as being an authority over Etamin. He also seemed to be unsure if that meant that the kid was liking him a bit less for being stern and so was trying to bribe him to make sure the kid would still like him. Hermione was going to have to talk to him or her son was going to end up a spoiled brat like Draco was himself.

"Really Daddy? Do you promise?" Etamin cried, leaping off the bed and stumbling a bit on the landing before righting himself and running over to Malfoy, where he collided with Malfoy's legs. Hermione put her hand over her mouth to hide her silent laughter when Malfoy looked alarmed as the tot wrapped his arms around Draco's thighs and squeezed tightly, his chin propped against Draco's belt-buckle as he peered up at him hopefully.

"Only if you're good, Etamin," Draco told him, "Now, I believe your Mum told you to go run the bath and get ready to bathe?"

Etamin smirked at his father for a minute before he nodded once, released Malfoy and dashed into the bathroom. Hermione heard him fumbling with the plug and muttering about the taps before they squeaked as he managed to turn them on. With the sound of running water, Hermione turned to Draco slowly.

"Why did you tell me I couldn't take him exploring?" Malfoy asked, his brow furrowed slightly as he met her gaze.

"He was extorting you," Hermione replied, smirking at him, "You can never forget that he might be five, but he is a genius. If you'd agreed straight away – especially when he purposely didn't outright agree to your rule – he'd have walked all over you forever and we'd have all had to spend tomorrow searching for him when he got impatient waiting for you and broke the rule, running off and getting lost somewhere."

"He…" Malfoy began, frowning a little before he narrowed his eyes, glancing in the direction of the bathroom where a little boy's shirt suddenly appeared in a crumpled pile in the doorway.

"Why, that little…."

"Indeed," Hermione agreed, "Never agree to his questions if you're trying to tell him to do something unless he gives you his agreement to the rule or the directive first, and don't bribe him to engender good behaviour. If you tell him to do something and he won't do it, incentivising him to do something will make him defy you every time until he gets something in return."

"Well, at least there's no doubt he's my son," Malfoy replied, running a hand through his blonde hair and looking like he hadn't even thought of such things from the five year old.

"Yes, he can be alarmingly Slytherin at times," Hermione agreed, "Just… don't let him think he can extort you. It's fine to reward him once he's agreed to what you want or has done what he's told, but don't give him anything until he does it, alright?"

Malfoy nodded slowly.

"Right… I think I'm going to need a crash course on being a parent," he admitted honestly, glancing at her sideways, "I'm basically a child myself. A spoiled one who gets whatever he wants, whenever he wants it, and doesn't let anyone tell him no."

"Want me to pull you into line too?" Hermione grinned at him, surprised to hear him admit it.

"Just…" he looked away, clearly uncomfortable with whatever he was thinking, "I don't want to screw it up. Being a father. Don't let me screw it up, Granger."

Hermione nodded her head, smiling and feeling surprisingly pleased with him for his obvious concern over doing a good job as a Dad. It wasn't going to be an easy job for him and it was going to be the biggest learning curve he ever had. Especially given that he hadn't had much time to really get used to the idea.

"The best way to make sure you're doing a good job is to remember three things," Hermione told him honestly, "The first is that everything you do can and will be emulated by your child – so watch what you do and watch what you say. The second is that even though right now he's just a little boy, one day he will be a man. What kind of man he grows up to be depends entirely on you and me. Think of everything in terms of him being a little man. If you don't want him doing something as a grown man, do _not_ let him get away with it as a boy. And the third thing to remember is that for all that he looks like you and acts like you – or like me, as the case may be – he's his own person and it's not up to you to squash that out of him. It's up to us to mould and shape the person he is and the person he will be into a law abiding, well-mannered gentleman. It is _not_ up to us to tell him what he can like or can't like, nor to tell him that something that you don't like or I don't like is what he should think too."

"I need to write this down," Malfoy muttered and Hermione raised her eyebrows when he went over to the small desk in Etamin's rooms – where a quill and parchment were set up and just waiting to be used. Hermione watched him as he scrawled down the things she'd told him.

"What else?" he asked her, glancing up at her seriously and Hermione realised how badly he wanted to be a good father when she saw the terrified expression on his face.

"The rest can be sorted out later," Hermione admitted, "There are lots of things to be being a parent, and you'd be surprised by how many of them are instinctual. But don't worry, if you're doing something wrong, you can rest assured I _will_ pull you up on it."

He nodded, and Hermione caught the smirk on his face as he watched her for a moment.

"Mummy?" Etamin shouted from the bathroom, "I don't have my soap."

Hermione sighed heavily again before waving her wand towards Etamin's trunk – which had been brought into the room by the elves when Malfoy had told them to get the suite ready. The trunk tipped on its side and she summoned the soap and his other toiletries and bathroom toys from inside it.

"Blimey, Granger," Malfoy commented as he saw everything inside the trunk, "Did you bring everything?"

"Yes," she answered honestly, "Mine is even more cramped, I literally brought everything we own that I had at Ron's."

Her lip trembled as she realised what she'd just said. She'd called their house "Ron's". She was already thinking of it as though she no longer lived there and never would again. The house she'd shared with her husband for five years. The house where he'd shagged that little tramp.

Malfoy seemed to sense the shift in her mood and he watched her cautiously.

Hermione bit down hard on her bottom lip before taking hold of all the things for Etamin that he would need in the bath. She walked purposely towards the bathroom then, carrying them with her. She didn't get two steps before Malfoy caught her arm lightly.

"Are you alright, Granger?" he asked in a low voice, his concern forced but nonetheless there. Hermione's lip trembled harder at that.

"Not even a little bit," she breathed truthfully, her eyes filling with tears that she couldn't wipe away thanks to her full hands. Instead she shook Malfoy's hand off her elbow, wiping away the solitary tear that slipped free with the shoulder of her robes before she walked into the bathroom. She stopped in the doorway to look over her shoulder at Malfoy for a moment, realising that he looked a little bit lost – unsure of what he was meant to do but wanting to do something.

"Are you coming?" she asked quietly before continuing into the bathroom without waiting for his reply.

Etamin was sitting in the tub, his clothes strewn all over the bathroom floor and he was paddling his hands in the water and splashing about as he waited for her to bring his things.

"Here you go, sweetheart," she said as she knelt next to the bathtub and began laying out his things.

"Will you help me wash my hair Mummy?" Etamin asked her innocently, "I don't want to get soap in my eyes again."

He'd been bathing unassisted for a few weeks now – old enough to know what to do but not always coordinated enough or to be trusted enough to do so entirely unsupervised. She usually just kept an eye on him these days, but last night when he'd been washing his hair he'd messed up and gotten shampoo in both of his eyes.

"Of course I will darling,' she told him, smiling as her heart squeezed inside her chest with love. Rolling up her sleeves, Hermione dipped her hands into the water before she reached for the pewter pouring jug she spotted at the end of the tub. Taking it up she poured the warm bath water carefully over Etamin's head to wet his partially dried hair. She lathered the shampoo in her hands and worked it into his white-blonde hair, being careful not to let any slip into his eyes. While she did so, Etamin took up his scrubbing sponge and his soap and began to wash himself thoroughly.

"I don't recall ever being this cooperative at bath-time," Malfoy's voice came from the door.

Etamin looked over, surprised to see him leaning in the doorway.

"Didn't you like bath-time when you were a boy, Daddy?" Etamin asked him curiously.

"I hated it," Malfoy replied, "Mother used to have to use magic to restrain me to keep me in the tub. She'd have the elves trick me to lure me into the washroom in the first place and then she'd remove all the doorhandles so I couldn't get out before she'd even begin trying to wrestle me out of my clothes."

"But why?" Etamin wanted to know.

"I don't know," Malfoy admitted, "I just hated it. Once I was in, I actually liked the warm water, I just never wanted to bathe. Probably because it meant I had to get ready for bed and wasn't allowed to play outside anymore that day."

"But you can still play in your pyjamas Daddy," Etamin told him matter-of-factly, "Mummy lets me read my books before bed. And sometimes she lets me draw – if I want."

"You don't mind bathing?" Draco asked him.

Etamin shook his head and Hermione had to reach out to swipe away some suds that slipped dangerously towards his eyes.

"I don't like being dirty. I like to play. Sometimes me and Teddy play rough and get all messy – but if I don't wash every day I'll get dirtier and dirtier. And then things will grow on me. I'll be so dirty that plants with grow in the dirt on me. Mummy says if I don't wash every day I'll end up with broccoli growing from my belly button and carrots growing from the backs of my knees. She said if I let too many days go past without washing the things that will grow on me will develop roots and I'll get stuck to the floor with plant roots coming from my feet."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder to wink at Malfoy for the lie she'd had to tell the little boy when he was younger in order to get him to wash – as he'd hated it as much as Malfoy once upon a time – but Malfoy was looking utterly horror-stricken by the imagery.

"Blo…imey, Granger!" he managed to catch himself before he swore in front of Etamin.

"It's true," she told him, widening her eyes at him warningly and not wanting him to tell Etamin it wasn't the case lest he revert to his bath-hating ways once more, "Do you want a little half-plant for a son?

Malfoy's eyes were wide and clearly concerned as he stared at her.

"No. That wouldn't do at all," he managed, clearly horrified, "Merlin, now I feel like _I_ need a bath."

"You do," she told him, smirking.

"Want to bath with me Daddy?" Etamin offered, "You can play with my mere-people if you want to?"

Malfoy's eyes widened further at the offer, clearly unaccustomed to childish innocence or to the idea of bathing with anyone else involved.

"Daddy's got his own bath, Etamin," Hermione told the child before Malfoy could stammered out a confused utterance, "He's bigger than you so he needs more space. And I'm sure he prefers showering anyway, like Mummy does."

"Oh," Etamin said, looking crestfallen.

"Close your eyes sweetheart, while I wash the shampoo out of your hair," Hermione instructed, waiting for him to do so before she carefully washed away the suds from the shampoo. When his hair was clean Hermione worked conditioner into the thick blonde locks. As she did so, she noticed the way he'd begun to rub his eyes and Hermione realised how tired he must be. He'd had a big day playing with Teddy and James, and an even longer afternoon full of emotional distress. Hermione was actually rather surprised that he wasn't throwing a tantrum from being over-tired yet, if she was being honest.

"Alright darling, you're all done," she told him when he was washed and all the conditioner was washed from his hair, "Out you get. Here's a towel for you. You dry yourself while I get your pyjamas, alright?"

Malfoy looked uncomfortable when Etamin did as he was told, standing up in the tub and revealing that he was nude. Clearly having no experience with children whatsoever was weighing on him since he didn't seem to know what to do about the sight of naked five-year old. Hermione on the other hand, was having trouble getting back to her feet whilst still wearing her heels and the pencil skirt she'd worn to work that day.

"Oh no," she gasped as she managed to get her shoes under her, rocking back from her knees until she had her heels under her before she began to overbalance.

"Having fun there?" Malfoy asked, a teasing lilt in his voice when she overbalanced from pushing too hard off her knees and began to topple backwards. She fell back only far enough for her back to collide with his knees and Hermione realised he'd come over behind her, apparently intent of helping her to her feet.

"Stupid shoes… stupid tight skirt…. Too bloody impractical…." she muttered before squeaking in surprise when Malfoy slid his hands under her arms and lifted her straight up until she was on her feet.

"Thank you," she said, her cheeks heating with embarrassment over having to be helped to her feet just because of what she was wearing. Malfoy smirked at her, letting her by as she went to fetch Etamin's pyjamas, feeling foolish for not having grabbed them when she'd brought everything else in.

She stopped on the way to remove her shoes, having to sit on the end of Etamin's bed to unbuckle the strappy heels from her feet before jerking them off.

"Just wait Daddy, in just second she'll take her heels off. I can always tell when she does," she heard Etamin stage-whisper in the bathroom, "Listen."

Hermione realised as she moaned softly with relief whilst flexing her now bared feet that he was listening for it, clearly used to hearing her make the sound every time she took off the horrid heels she wore to work every day.

"She always make that sound when she takes those spiky shoes off," Etamin could be heard in the bathroom.

Hermione smiled at the sound of her son informing his father all about his mother. It was amusing, if somewhat embarrassing that she was so predictable.

"Wait for it, Daddy there's more," Etamin whispered and Hermione realised what he was waiting for as she got to her feet, enjoying the feel of walking bare foot across the carpet so much that she giggled. She realised with a jolt that she did it every time she took her shoes off, feeling like a naughty child every single time. As a girl she hadn't been allowed to take her shoes off except for bath-time and bed-time, so every time she did so - even as an adult - she felt like she was being naughty.

"She's giggling?" Malfoy's voice asked.

"She giggles when she walks without her shoes after wearing them all day," Etamin told him matter-of-factly, "I think they hurt her feet lots, but she wears them for the same reason that she wears her hair in that tight bun and wears those severe clothes."

"And what reason might that be?" Malfoy asked the boy as they came out of the bathroom, Etamin wrapped in his towel.

"She needs to look like she can't be rattled at work. Otherwise all those naughty vampires would try to test her rules. They're silly if they try. I learned the hard way not to test Mummy's rules. She gets really mad," Etamin said.

"Yeah? What does she do when she's really mad?" Malfoy asked the kid, shooting a smirk in Hermione's direction as he walked with the boy.

"When Mummy's really mad her hair starts to crackle with blue light, jumping through the curls. I think it's her magic, just waiting to be unleashed. It's like lightning in the sky when it storms right before it pours down rain. Sometimes she shouts – mostly at Da… Ron. But when she's really, really mad there's no shouting. There's still lightning in her hair. When Mummy's really angry she doesn't say a word, she just gives a look – like this," he demonstrated, "And then she walks away. If she ever looks at you like that it means you're in big trouble Daddy, and you better leave her alone a little while before you crawl in and grovel until she deigns to look at you again."

"Is that right?" Malfoy asked and Hermione saw there was an intrigued expression on his face as he glanced in her direction again, "And how do you know so much about your Mum, buddy?"

"Mummy's my favourite person in the whole wide world," Etamin told him then and Hermione beamed, "I know everything about her because I love her. That's what you do when you love someone Daddy. You learn everything you can about them."

"What about me, kid?" he asked though Hermione could tell he wasn't offended.

"I just met you, Daddy," Etamin said, having the audacity to roll his eyes, "But you can be my favourite Daddy - if you want?"

Malfoy couldn't hide his grin at that and Hermione smiled widely as well. Etamin came over to her then and held his arms up, clearly waiting for her to dress him in his pyjamas.

"Are you telling Daddy my secrets Etamin?" Hermione asked him as she pulled his pyjama shirt over his head.

"Only the little ones," Etamin promised with a sly smile, "Daddy's not ready to know you big secrets yet Mummy."

"Other leg, darling," Hermione told him when he tried to put his foot in the wrong pant-hole as she dressed him.

When he was wrapped in his bright orange and blue striped pyjamas with rockets on them Hermione nodded her head towards the bed.

"Come on sweetheart, bed time for you," she told him.

"But I'm not tired," Etamin protested, before yawning widely.

"Yes you are. And you've had a long day. Hop in, sweetheart," she told him, and he relented without a fuss, running over to the bed and tearing back the covers. He clambered up onto the bed, snuggling down under the covers and waiting to be tucked in for the night.

Hermione smiled at him adoringly as she tucked him in and bent forwards to kiss his forehead.

"Will you read me a story tonight, Mummy? Pretty please?" Etamin begged, clearly knowing he wasn't going to be allowed to read his book for himself.

"I don't know, sweetheart," Hermione pretended to hesitate over the idea, shooting a sly wink at Malfoy, "It's awfully late and you've have a big day today. You might need your sleep."

"But I'm not tired yet. I promise I'm not! Please, Mummy? Please?" Etamin begged, fixing her a puppy-dog expression of hopefulness that always melted her heart.

Hermione grinned at her son widely, "Which story would you like to read tonight?"

"I want to hear more about Brer Rabbit, Mummy," Etamin told her, "I like him. He's clever like me."

Still smiling, Hermione waved her wand to summon the book he'd requested from his suitcase before she settled herself onto the bed on Etamin's right side, wrapping her arm around his small shoulders and cuddling him into her side.

"Which tale were we up to, darling?" Hermione asked of the small boy.

"This one, Mummy," Etamin told her, pointing to the one where the book-mark was sitting between the pages, "Daddy, you have to listen too. Brer Rabbit's the cleverest rabbit around, you know?"

Draco looked startled by the idea of rabbits being clever at all and he glanced at her helplessly when Etamin leaned forwards and grabbed his hand, tugging on him until he had no choice but to sit down on Etamin's other side to wait patiently while Hermione began reading the story. Smiling to herself and offering no comment or direction for Malfoy to follow when it was such fun to watch him struggle with how to be a father, Hermione waited until Etamin's attention was back on the book. She noticed with some amusement that the little boy hadn't released his father's hand, holding it in a tight grip to keep him from leaving before the story could begin.

Licking her lips, Hermione took a deep breath, opened her mouth and began to read.

* * *

 _*The story Hermione reads Etamin belong to the short story collection within Enid Blyton's "Brer Rabbit's a Rascal"._


	10. 10: Looking Back Now

**A/N: You guys have been spoiling me rotten with all your reviews! A special shout out to clarkfan325 for reviewing every chapter. You're such a gem! Thanks for taking the time to comment on every chapter, it makes my day to see how everyone reacts to each chapter as they come =) **

**In other news, you'll all be thrilled to learn my mojo is back for this fic and I've recently cleared 55k words pre-written, woohoo! More frequent updates are on the way. You say: "YAAAAAAAAAAAY!"**

 **I can totally see my cross-fic readers rolling their eyes and telling me I said the same about 'Howl for Me' months ago, but trust me, it's true for this one. I'm beginning to prioritize those fics that are in the most advanced stages of completion: ie. 'Fervidity', 'Stripped Bare', 'Howl for Me', 'The Silver Dragon', 'Embracing the Madness' and 'Winter Storm'. Sporadic chapters on my others will also be posted when inspiration strikes, but those ones I mentioned have been getting some serious love from yours truly in the writing department.**

 **As ever, a slave to my muse.**

 **Much love! xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Better Dig Two**

 _By Kittenshift17  
_

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 **Chapter 10: Looking Back Now**

* * *

Draco blinked when Granger closed the book a number of short stories and almost an hour later. He'd been completely suckered into the stories and he was honestly surprised by the sudden re-immersion into reality. When he glanced down away from the closed book as she began to move, easing herself out from beneath their son, Draco noticed that Etamin had fallen asleep, snuggled between the two of them and looking entirely too cute while he slept.

Did it make him a bad father to think his own son was adorable?

Etamin still gripped his hand, as he had done for the full hour that Granger had read to the child, enthralling him with tales of a mischievous rabbit who'd seemed very Slytherin in Draco's opinion. Still watching his son as he slept, Draco noticed the way Granger managed to ease her way free of the slumbering child before she stood beside the bed.

She bent over and pulled the covers more securely around Etamin, making sure he was covered and would be warm while he slept. She smoothed them idly when she was done, seeming as enraptured by the sight of their son as Draco felt. When she bent even closer she whispered words of love to the little boy before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Etamin stirred ever so slightly, shuffling a bit in his sleep and mumbling something incoherent.

"Say goodnight, Malfoy," Granger whispered to him as she straightened once more.

She turned and placed the book on the nightstand by the bed, no doubt intent on reading to him again the following night. Draco didn't quite know what to do. Giving the hand he still held a light squeeze, Draco eased himself off the edge of the bed as well. He noticed as he began to move that he'd slumped down rather comfortably next to his son, reclining against the headboard of the child-sized bed despite the fact that it was so small.

When he stood next to the bed he simply continued to stare at the small child while he slept peacefully, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he did so. Draco was sure he could stand there all night long and simply watch his son while he slept. He'd been relatively sure he could have sat there all night long on the cramped bed while Etamin held his hand and Granger's voice filled his head as she read aloud from the book.

"Come on," Granger said and Draco looked up to see her smiling at him strangely, as though she understood exactly what he was thinking in regard to standing there all night, "If you stare too long it wakes him, trust me."

"I…" Draco began, not really sure where he'd meant to go with the sentence he'd started. If he was being honest, he felt slightly overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sensation inside his chest as he looked at the little boy.

"Bid your son goodnight, Malfoy," Granger urged him softly and Draco wondered how he was supposed to do that.

She had smoothed his covers and kissed his forehead. Draco recalled his own mother doing something similar when he'd been small. He blinked slowly, trying to recall what his own father had done when bidding him goodnight. He knew there had been times when Lucius had done so, he just didn't entirely remember what they were. Maybe he'd always fallen asleep before his father had bid him goodnight every evening.

He found himself reaching for Etamin slowly with one hand, feeling the strangest urge to confirm that something so small and so precious yet so wonderful could actually be real. He smoothed his hand over Etamin's white-blonde hair, identical in colour to his own, noting the way the boy shifted slightly again in his sleep but didn't wake. He didn't understand this strange pressure inside his whole body, but it was so powerful it made Draco tremble.

Granger was still smiling at him when he looked back at her before he looked at his son again. He pulled his hand back slowly before beginning to leave the room. Indeed, he got almost to the door before a small noise behind him drew his attention once more and Draco turned.

Etamin shifted slightly in his sleep, readjusting his position before sighing. His feet carried him back to his son's bedside as he watched the boy, the pressure inside his chest growing the longer he looked.

"Malfoy?" Granger's voice called softly and Draco lifted his eyes slowly to meet her gaze.

She looked back at him with an expression Draco couldn't even name, but it looked like something akin to empathy, wonder and utter awe. Draco knew that he was feeling those things, none of which he was entirely used to. If he was being honest he tended to avoid, bury and deny all emotions but anger, boredom and lust most of the time. To be feeling so many new and unfamiliar things all at once was unsettling at best.

Looking back down at his son, Draco reached out again, once again needing to confirm that the boy was real; that this wasn't some wild imagining of his. Some elaborate delusion that he might waken from at any moment.

Granger made a beckoning motion when he looked at her again, confirming that his son was real. That somehow, the two of them had created something so… perfect. Shaking his head in utter disbelief, Draco tried to obey her. He tried again to leave the room and to leave the presence of the sleeping, angel-haired child.

He got almost all the way through the door and into Granger's suite before he stopped and turned back again. He didn't understand what he was doing, but he couldn't leave. He stopped when he reached the end of the four post bed, watching as Etamin shifted again, rolling until he was stretched out on his stomach. His breathing deepened, evening into the heavy sighs of slumber as he slipped further and further into dreamland.

Draco watched in silence even as he felt a warm presence come up beside him at the end of the bed. She stood close enough that Draco could pick up the scent of soot that lingered on her clothing as well as the underlying, yet slightly stale hints of the perfume she must wear every day. Something crisp and fresh like lemongrass combined with something softer, like jasmine. It wasn't unpleasant, but the staleness of the scent alerted him to the fact that while their son had been bathed and put to bed, his son's mother had yet to see to her own needs for the evening and she'd had a terribly trying day.

"I can't stop…" Draco admitted to her quietly, not even sure how to quantify what it was that he couldn't cease. He couldn't cease looking. He couldn't stop watching Etamin sleep. He couldn't stop thinking that if he left, something wretched might befall the boy the very minute he looked away.

"I know," Granger whispered, "It never goes away. That pressure inside your chest right now? It's love. Love and worry. Hope. Fear. No one tells you about that part when you become a parent. They tell you about the good things. The way you feel like your whole world has narrowed down to only the child and how important they are. To how much you love them, in such a way that isn't even quantifiable. The happy things that come with being a parent are the ones people talk about…. They don't tell you about the pure, unending fear. The worry. The utter awe you feel when you look at something so small, yet so wonderful. Something you helped create."

"We made that, Granger," Draco whispered to her, still watching their son sleep, "We made _him_. We…."

"We did," she agreed softly and Draco didn't even flinch or pull away when he felt her slip her hand inside his as she stood beside him, both of them watching their son while he slept, oblivious to the emotions coursing through both of his parents at that moment.

She held his hand tightly, but not uncomfortably. Almost as though she knew he felt like he was having trouble remaining grounded right at that moment.

"Come on," she said quietly after they'd both stood there in silence for several long minutes and simply watched the wonder that was their child, "Before he wakes up."

"I can't leave," Draco shook his head.

"You can," she promised, "He'll be right here in the morning. Trust me. He looks like an angel right now, but come dawn, you'll be thinking he's actually the devil incarnate, there to make your life miserable."

She gently pulled on his hand, tugging at him until he turned away. He glanced over his shoulder with every step he took towards the door, watching the sleeping boy avidly. He couldn't describe the urge he felt to stand there all night long and watch the child. Granger didn't let him. She led him through the door and into her suite instead before quietly closing the door to the nursery where Etamin slept.

She didn't release him until she'd led him across her room and over to the door that led out into the hallway, as though she knew how badly he wanted to turn right around and go back into Etamin's room simply to breathe in his utter awe.

Shaking his head, Draco squared his shoulders and gave himself a stern talking to about what a fool he probably looked right then. When he glanced down at Granger as she slipped her hand free of his once more, Draco noticed how broken she looked.

The idea made him shiver uneasily. He'd seen her truly broken once before in his life. He'd seen Hermione Granger at her very worst once, not so very long ago. He didn't like the reminder or the sight of such anguish and pain on her face as he spotted when she stepped backwards and began to turn away from him as though satisfied he would go for the night just because she'd escorted him to the door.

"Granger?" Draco asked of the young woman, noting the way her loose curls shifted restlessly while she moved as she padded over towards the bed where the elves had propped her trunk at the end of the queen bed.

She tensed her shoulders and Draco heard the smallest of sniffles escape her. He realised with a jolt that now that she was alone, or at least free of her son's company and his immediate needs, she was breaking down. She'd had an emotionally upheaving day, Draco recalled suddenly. She had learned he was the father of her son; she had discovered her husband cheating on her with another woman and she'd been so terrified out of her wits by the fight she'd had with Weasley that she'd fled here. To Malfoy Manor. To the place she'd once been tortured within inches of her life.

She stumbled slightly as she crossed the room towards her trunk and Draco darted back into the room, one of his arms looping around her waist from behind when she almost sagged and dropped to the ground. Almost immediately, she fought the hold, trying to right herself so she could get back on her feet and Draco knew without a doubt that no matter how broken she might be feeling inside, Hermione Granger wasn't one to just melt down to the floor and cry her heart out.

She was much stronger than that. Something she proved when she got her feet back under her and peeled his arm from around her narrow waist.

"Thank you," she muttered as she pried open her trunk and began searching around inside it for something, "I..."

She turned towards him slowly when she'd managed to dig out what appeared to be her night gown and Draco realised she was going to get in the shower. He suspected part of the reason was so she could cry in peace, without him seeing or knowing.

"I didn't mean to come here and... upset your life, Malfoy," she said quietly, her eyes swivelling up to meet his gaze, "I just... I panicked. He was so angry."

"Did he injure you, Granger?" Draco asked her quietly, still standing in the middle of the room where she'd peeled him off of her, watching her carefully.

"He... he shoved me," she admitted, "Across the room... I hit the dresser."

"Let me see," Draco commanded, his eyes narrowing and his temper flaring again at the idea that she'd been hurt.

He might have been a heartless and rotten bastard most of his life, but Draco had always been of the opinion that women and children were to be protected. He might use the women he shagged for the sexual release and the distraction they provided, but he'd never physically hurt one of them. The idea that anyone could without it being in defense of his own life was utterly despicable in Draco's opinion.

"I'm fine," she shook her head, holding up a hand to ward him off when he took a step towards her.

"Let me be the judge of that, Granger," Draco told her sternly, "You've got Calming Draught in your system and you've have a really fucked up day. Where did you hit the dresser?"

"My..." she bit her bottom lip indecisively before realising he'd made a good point.

Draco watched her carefully as she pried the hem of her shirt from where it was still mostly tucked into her pencil skirt. She turned her back on him before pulling the hem up to reveal the bare expanse of her back. She wore a lace bra under the shirt, he noticed, but he did so only in passing as he moved forwards and moved it aside to examine the full extent of the damage to her back.

"It's badly bruised, Granger," Draco told her softly, his fists clenching again at the sight of the darkening bruise that was appearing across her smooth flesh. It was clear to him from the line of the darkest bruise was where she had made impact with the sharp edge of the dresser. There was a faint scrape and some additional bruising spreading across the middle of the back and across her shoulder blades that suggested she'd been winded and had slid awkwardly down the piece of furniture before pulling away from it.

"How badly?" she asked just as quietly, flinching when he trailed his fingers over the abused skin there softly, so as not to hurt her.

"You're going to need so Bruise Salve, at least," he told her, "Are there more? Did he grab you at all?"

"I... I don't remember," she admitted.

"Take this off," Draco instructed quietly, pulling gently on the hem of her shirt to try and remove it so he could better see her arms and her shoulders. He got the feeling she was going to have more bruises that just the ones he could currently see.

"I'm not taking my shirt off while you're in the room, Malfoy," she protested, wiggling out of his reach and causing her shirt to fall back down over her body.

"Because I haven't seen you topless before?" he scoffed when she turned to stare at him wide-eyed over the very suggestion of removing her shirt, "Did you miss the part where our son is asleep in the next room? I distinctly recall seeing and touching every inch of you the night he was conceived."

"That was five years ago," she protested, "And we'd been drinking!"

"You're wearing a bra," Draco rolled his eyes at her, "It's not like I'm going to see any of your private areas. Though I have before. Just take the shirt off. I need to see how badly injured you are, Granger."

"No you don't, other than the ones on my back, I can tend to the rest of the marks myself. You don't need to see anything."

"Granger," Draco sighed, watching the way her breathing was coming faster and her eyes darted around the room as though she couldn't handle another fight so soon. He held up his hands placatingly, "If you really don't want to do it, I'm not going to make you. I'm just trying to help. You've had a bad night and you're hurt. Let me heal you, at least."

"But if I take my..." she began before closing her eyes.

Draco realised she was protesting mostly on instinct because of the fact that she was still married, despite having just walked out on her cheating bastard of a husband. And also because he was Draco Malfoy. He could understand her concern. They'd been rivals for a long time. There was a time when seeing her topless might have sparked him to torment her or make a lewd comment. Now all he wanted to do was see how badly injured she was.

She shook her head seemingly to herself before she snatched the hem of her shirt from inside the front of her skirt where it was still tucked in, ripping the garment off over her head and revealing an entirely too innocent looking white lace and cotton brasserie. The high waist of her skirt concealed her belly button and her stomach from view, but her ribs and her chest where now on display. Draco barely registered the slim and petite build of her body. He was too focused on the finger-shaped bruises that marred her shoulders where she'd been gripped hard.

"Did he shake you?" Draco asked in a low voice, his anger simmering once more at the sight of such bruises on the woman before him.

"No," she shook her head, twisting her arms slightly to better see the marks on her flesh, "Just grabbed me there and shoved me as hard as he could when I viciously informed him that you are Etamin's father."

"Do they hurt?" Draco asked, reaching for the marks and touching her right shoulder lightly.

"Not right now. I can't really feel them. I imagine they'll be sore after I shower."

"You should document these and the marks on your back as well, Granger," Draco told her quietly, "He can't get custody of Etamin because biologically he's not related to the kid, but he's still going to try if it means he can spite you. I imagine he's going to make it extremely difficult for you to divorce him as well. The more evidence you have that he's been cheating on you and that he got rough with you, the better your case will be in your favour."

"Use this," she answered stoically, turning and picking up a camera from inside the top of her trunk, "The ones of him with Astoria are on there as well."

"Turn around," Draco said, accepting the camera from her with one hand while twirling his finger to match his statement.

She did as instructed.

"I'm going to move your bra out of the way so it doesn't mar the shot, alright?" he asked before even thinking about touching the fabric.

She glanced over her shoulder for a minute, her cinnamon eyes searching his face as though looking for lechery. When she seemed satisfied not to have found any she nodded her head slowly and faced forwards once more. Draco used on hand to unclasp the garment of clothing, causing it to spring apart. The straps fell from her shoulders too, revealing the entire expanse of her back to his gaze.

Draco was much too concerned by the bruises on her her skin to sexualise the moment at all. Even if he had been unknowingly fantasizing about this very witch for years since the last time he'd had her naked. Instead he was focused on ensuring he got several photographs of the bruises and marks upon her back before stepping around her to get a better shot of the hand-shaped marks on both of her shoulders. She clutched the cups of her bra over her breasts, hiding them from view as he took the photos.

"Zippy?" Draco asked and the elf appeared beside him with a pop.

"Master?"

"Bring me some of the bruise salve from my stores please, and maybe another Calming Draught as well. Once you've retrieved them, could you bring us both tea?" he asked of the elf.

"Right away, Master," Zippy nodded and disapparated.

Before Granger could speak, the elf returned and handed him the salve and the potion he'd requested and left again to fetch them tea.

"May I?" he asked of Granger, eyeing her carefully.

She nodded her acquiescence, still gnawing on her lip carefully. Draco could tell she was fighting the urge to cry and that she was uncomfortable being so disrobed in his presence. He handed the witch the camera, smirking ever so slightly when she had to shuffle so that one arm held her bra in place while she took the camera back with her free hand. Draco started with the marks on her shoulders, watching the way she flinched again at being touched by him. She forced herself to hold still after that and Draco smirked to himself in amusement over her clear determination despite how uncomfortable he seemed to make her.

"Malfoy?" she asked quietly, turning her back when he twirled his finger at her and began applying the salve to the bruises on her back.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Have you told your parents about all of this?" she wanted to know.

"I was in the middle of informing them when you arrived," Draco replied, "They know that I have a son and that you are his mother."

"But you didn't mention having suggested I move in here?" she asked.

"I hadn't gotten around to that part. Mother and Father got a little bit emotional to learn they have a five year old, half-blood grandson," he admitted.

"You were right about your mother," she murmured, "She seemed very interested in making sure I stayed the night."

"She did," he chuckled, "She might seem cold and rather aloof at times, but she cares very much for her family. The idea of her previously unknown grandson living anywhere but here in the Manor where every Malfoy has been raised for centuries will have upset her very much. She won't take kindly to the idea of you leaving again."

"We can't stay," Granger murmured, "We're already putting you out just by being here. I didn't intend to take you up on your offer, but I knew Ron wouldn't follow me if I came here... I'm sorry we just barged in on you like this."

It was clear from her formal tone and her stiff words that she felt bad accepting his help and that it was hard for her to admit that she'd been put in this position. She didn't want to be there, it seemed. And Draco got the feeling she was going to be difficult about staying for any extended period of time. He was already plotting how he was going to keep her there. He couldn't stand the thought of his son living anywhere but under his roof. To be honest, the idea of Granger going anywhere else didn't sit well with him either. She was Etamin's mother and it would be hard on the kid if they lived in different houses.

"You're not putting anyone out by being here," Draco disagreed with her, "Trust me Granger, these rooms would have stood empty and unused for many years to come if I hadn't run into you in Diagon Alley the other day and realised Etamin was mine."

"Avoiding being tied down as long as possible?" she asked, sounding amused before returning to her sombre tone, "But that's not the point. You and I haven't spoken in five years before the other day. I can't just... move into your home."

"You can," Draco disagreed, "Trying to handle this situation with you living anywhere else will only makes things harder and more complicated."

"But..."

"No buts, Granger," Draco said sternly, staring her dead in the eyes when she turned to look at him, clearly intent on arguing her case, "I want you to live here. I don't care if you need to or not. You've made it clear that there are other places you could go that Weasley might not be able to find, but I want you to stay here. I want my kid living in my house."

"But if I stay..." she protested.

"If you stay, we won't have to pass Etamin back and forth. He can have that room he's in right now until he's big enough for a room not connected to his mother's. He can be safe and happy without being ferried between two places of residence."

"But you parents..." she tried to argue.

"My parents have no choice but to accept that Etamin is my son and you are his mother," Draco cut her off, staring down into her anxious face and noticing that it was still covered in soot, "It might take them a while, particularly Father, to adjust to the idea of having a muggleborn witch living in this house, but he will get used to it."

"I don't want to put you all out," Granger protested weakly, looking like she might cry, "To be honest being in this house scares me, after my last visit. I only came because I needed to get away from Ron until he can calm down... I didn't mean to break down all over you... I didn't mean to..."

She trailed off, her eyes filling with tears again and without thinking, Draco lifted his hands, cupping either side of her neck gently.

"Stay," he insisted quietly, giving her a faint jolt for emphasis, "You need to be somewhere safe until your husband calms down and until you can get your divorce settled. You need to get your head in order and you need to make sure Etamin has somewhere he can call home. He's adjusting surprisingly well to the idea of me being his father, but that doesn't mean he isn't going to be upset over this as much as you. I want you to stay. I want my kid safe and I want you, as the mother of my son, to be safe. You're safe here."

"How can you possibly say that? Your father hates muggleborns. I'm surprised your house didn't spit me right back in the moment I ever crossed the threshold," she scoffed, her frown deepening.

"Father will get over it, Granger," Draco shrugged, smoothing his hands up and down the length of her neck subconsciously, "It's my mother we need to be concerned about."

"You mother?" Granger frowned.

"Did you see her face when you mentioned the idea of going to your parent's country estate?" Draco asked, grinning a little, "She's not going to let you get away easily. She's been harping at me since I finished school about getting married. She's wanted grandchildren since the war ended. She will, I do not doubt, do everything in her power to convince you and I to marry. Especially since you are already the mother of my heir."

"I'm not going to marry you," Granger rolled her eyes, "I don't even know you, let alone much like you based on what I remember of you."

"The feeling is mutual," Draco smirked at her, "But she'll try to be sneaky in her attempts to get the two of us together."

"All the more reason not to stay. We can leave tomorrow. Mum and Dad won't mind if I move into the holiday house until I can get something more permanent sorted out," she mused, her eyes still darting between both of his.

She was still clutching her bra to her breasts, Draco noticed suddenly.

"If it was just you on your own Granger, you wouldn't even be here and I'd say more power to you and let you handle your own affairs however you see fit. But where you live from here on out also dictates where Etamin lives," he reminded her, just in case she'd managed to forget, "And I want him to live here."

"But we'll be in your way," Granger protested, "Your father will be uncomfortable inside his own home knowing we're here. Your mother will take it as a sign that you and I could potentially bend to her will. And the press… Merlin's beard, can you imagine it? If it ever even gets out that I came here tonight after a particularly messy break-up with my husband, the papers will crucify all of us. I can already see the headlines. Imagine it. They'll accuse you and I of having an affair."

Draco stared at her for a long moment in silence, watching as the panic began to grow inside her eyes.

"Granger?" he asked when her breathing began to come in sharper pants once more.

Her eyes jumped back to his, wide and waiting to see what he had to see.

"We did have an affair," he reminded her, "Yes, they will accuse you of cheating on Weasley. They will accuse you of lying to him. They will call me a rotten bastard for not claiming my own kid and doing the right thing by marrying you, as is proper. Mother's idea might be batty to you and I as people with lives and an ugly history, but the wizarding world still very firmly believes that children born out of wedlock are bastards and that single parenting for any other reason than being widowed is unacceptable. When this gets out, the public will expect you to remarry. Preferably, to marry me as I'm the rightful father of your son."

"What?" she frowned in horror.

"I'm not joking Granger. I don't want to marry you any more than you want to marry me, but it will be expected," he warned, "Some of the older generation will undoubtedly begin avoiding you or ignoring you when you speak if you stay single for too long with such a young son to raise."

"But I'm still married! Etamin was born after Ron and I were legally joined in matrimony. They can't call my son a bastard just because Ron wasn't his biological father at the time he was born."

"They shouldn't," he corrected her, "But some still will. I don't think you understand the full implications and the extent of the fallout that will come of this rather inconvenient turn of events. However, some of the damage will be mitigated by the fact that you've come here immediately. You found out today that I'm Etamin's father. You almost immediately recognised it as fact and you acted to ensure he was properly claimed by me. His records were altered, as were both of ours. We changed his legal name and made sure that he is properly listed as my heir. You also immediately demanded divorce of your husband. His cheating aside, you still went home with the intention of informing him that I'm the kid's father and divorcing him."

Her frown deepened in confusion as he spoke.

"What's more, you have arrived at the Manor with Etamin in tow on the very same day as learning he's my son. These things will earn you points Granger."

"Points?" she shook her head, clearly not understanding, "I walked out on my husband, cheating aside for now. I came to your house the same day as finding out. People will think that you and I have been in contact the entire time Etamin's been alive. They'll accuse us both of having some kind of affair behind Ron's back. Why else would I come right over when I caught my husband cheating on me? They'll loathe me."

"Some will. But if we handle this properly, things will work out not so bad. Points refers to the pureblood high society. Pureblood elite will probably frown a bit on the idea of you being muggleborn, but they will also recognise that times have changed. To the old families, we've done the right thing. We made a mistake in our youth and didn't know to rectify it until today. And the very day we realised, we fixed it as best we could. The Old families believe very strongly in claiming their heirs, muggleborn or not. You will get points with them for doing the perceived 'right' thing. i.e. you learned I was Etamin's father, you left your husband and moved in with me. They will expect a wedding soon after your divorce is finalised and we will both lose points the longer we don't marry."

"But we have no intention of marrying," she continued to frown.

"They don't know that yet though, do they? As far as they're concerned, you realised you were married to a man not the father of your child, and you acted to rectify it. Mother will undoubtedly set up interviews and an exclusive press conference in the next few days where you and I will both have to tell the story to the papers of how this all came about."

"What?" Granger yelped, stumbling back a step and almost dropping her bra in the process when her legs collided with the end table. Only his grip on her neck kept her from falling.

"Relax, Granger," Draco shook his head at her, chuckling, "This is a big deal to the wizarding world and it needs to be handled appropriately. In the meantime, I have some requests to make of you?"

"Requests? What requests?" she asked.

"I want you to owl your secretary and have her cancel all your appointments for the rest of the week. If you have a boss, I want you to owl them as well and tell them you've had a crisis crop up and that you're taking a few personal days. Then I want you to owl Tussaints and pull Etamin from his classes for the rest of the week. Until Weasley has the chance to calm down you can't risk getting anywhere near him or going anywhere that he might try to get to you."

"He's not a psychopath, Malfoy," she sighed, "He's not going to try and kidnap Etamin just to get back at me."

"You don't know that," Draco shook his head, "He's furious. He called my son Death Eater spawn and he abused you! I'll bet you never thought he'd do either of those things either, but he did."

"You think he would… what? Kidnap Etamin and hold him hostage unless I agree to his terms on the divorce?"

"It's what I would do," Draco replied grimly, "His entire life has just gone to shit, Granger. His wife caught him screwing another woman and walked out on him. The boy he'd claimed as his son turns out to be none other than the child of his enemy. To make matters worse, you ran from him. You packed everything you own and you ran."

"You think I should've stayed?" she asked hotly.

"Hell no," Draco said, his hands subconsciously tightening around her, "You did the right thing for you and for Etamin to get out of there and to come here. But to him, that's just another black mark against you. The fact that he came after you means that no matter how angry he is right now, he wants to keep you. Possibly Etamin as well. He might be angry enough to kill you, but if he gets by that, he may still want to keep you. This paints him in a very bad light. Sure, he screwed around on you so much that you retaliated. He'll get points for claiming the kid and marrying your even though he knew it wasn't his son. He'll even get points for letting everyone think Etamin was his. But he will look very bad when it comes out that he cheated on you again and especially when it comes out that he attacked you and left these bruises on you. He might be a fucking idiot from a blood traitor family, but he knows the pureblood etiquette rules as well as I do, even if he usually ignores them."

"Essentially you're saying that if I go anywhere near him or if he can get to us, he's going to do something insane to what? Protect his reputation?" Granger frowned, shaking her head in confusion.

"Come on Granger, think it through. He'll look bad and more than anything, his fame is important to him. Losing it, seeing it turn to shit when this gets out will make him barmy. Barmier than he already is for laying his hands on his own wife."

"It's not like he hit me," she protested.

"He shoved you hard enough that you have bruises. I don't care if he was furious or if you provoked him. He attacked you, Granger."

"I hit him first. I slapped him when he called Etamin as little bastard," she argued, "I split his lip open with my wedding ring, I hit him so hard."

"You'd just found him cheating on you and you were defending your son," Draco waved a hand dismissively, "In the eyes of the world, he fucking deserved it. But you didn't. You came home to him screwing another woman in your bed, you told him you'd just learned I was Etamin's biological father and he got angry. You even claim he knew Etamin wasn't his. That means that though he would undoubtedly have been surprised, it wasn't as big of a shock as it could have been to learn he wasn't Etamin's father. He knew the kid wasn't his. He attacked you for that fact, even though he'd known it since before he married you."

"Ron's not a manipulative bastard like you though Malfoy," she argued, "He's not cunning enough to use all this against me. He might go to the papers and claim that he never knew or that I wasn't giving him kids of his own. He might even make things up about me, but he's not going to snatch a child and use him as leverage."

"You don't know that," Draco insisted, narrowing his eyes on the stubborn witch in frustration, "And I'm not risking it. If you truly want to fight me on it, you can go back to work or to the bloody lawyers office in the morning, but you're not putting my son in harm's way. Until this is sorted out, Etamin doesn't go anywhere without me."

"Are you serious?" she demanded, "You met him today!"

"And he's my fucking kid, Granger," Draco growled, "It wouldn't matter if I'd met him the day he was born, he's my fucking kid and I'm going to keep him safe. From everything. Including his step-father's wrath, and his mother's stubborn stupidity if need be."

"Stupidity!" she snarled, narrowing her eyes on him.

"Yes. Right now you're being stupid because you're emotionally overwrought. Until you have your head screwed back on right, I decide what's best for the kid, Granger. And if need be, I'll bloody well decide what's best for you!"

"You don't even like me! What do you care if I put myself in harm's way or if I go back to work tomorrow? Ron's not a deranged sociopath. He's just angry."

"You're the mother of my fucking kid, Granger!" Draco snapped, "Do you not understand that? What happens to you for the rest of your fucking life is going to be my business. Your safety and well-being affects that of our son. If something happens to you, something awful happens to him and I will _not_ let that happen. Is that clear? So I'm taking the decisions out of your hands. You are going to drink this Calming Draught before you have a meltdown. Then you are going to get in the shower, get clean and go to bed. I, on the other hand, will dispatch an owl to your secretary regarding your work schedule, Etamin's schooling and a number of other matters including getting you a damn good lawyer."

"You can't just take over my life, Malfoy," she snapped, jerking back from him again only to collide once more with the end table. She didn't even managed to get free of his light grip the back of her neck.

Leaning in close to her, using his grip on the hair at the nape of her neck and stooping slightly until his face hovered a hairsbreadth above hers, Draco stared her dead in the eyes so she could see just how serious he was about protecting his son and about protecting her by extension.

"Watch me."


	11. 11: Days Like This

**A/N: You guys have been spoiling me with these reviews! You're all so sweet for taking the time to review for me. I love you all so much. I hope you enjoy this new chapter. I couldn't help but giggle at how many of you were concerned about Hermione's state of mind in the last one, but this one should better clear up a few lingering concerns. And I know you're all craving more of Etamin, but there are a few things we need to straighten out with the plot before he makes another of his adorable appearances. As always, thank you for taking the time to read and review my stories. Much love! xx-Kitten**

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 **Better Dig Two**

 _By Kittenshift17_

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 **Chapter 11: Days Like This**

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Hermione glared hatefully at the man staring into her face from such an inappropriately close distance. She felt sparkles of anger crackling through her hair, her magic manifesting in her fury with him for daring to think he could tell her what to do. For daring to think he could touch her this way when she was so inappropriately garbed.

Until he'd come so close that if she moved at all, their lips would touch, Hermione had almost forgotten that she was clutching her bra to her chest, the clasp undone and the straps dangling limply around her biceps. If she crossed her arms over her chest or even so much as shifted her hand, her breasts would be exposed. The idea that she was topless and being manhandled by Draco Malfoy was highly unnerving, but it didn't at all trump her anger with him for daring to think he could order her about.

Even if most of the things he was suggesting did make perfect sense. Of course she needed to keep Etamin and herself out of Ron's reach until she could divorce the man. He'd shoved her into a dresser and he'd injured his sister before starting a fist fight with his best friend in his attempts to get to her, to continue arguing with her. Possibly to further hurt her or to hurt Etamin. Of course she was going to stay away from Ron and anywhere Ron might think to look for her until he'd had a chance to calm down.

But that didn't mean Draco sodding Malfoy had any right whatsoever to make such demands.

"Let go of me, Malfoy," she snarled at the blonde haired man responsible for her son's conception.

"You're not thinking clearly," he retorted, doing a much better job of remaining in control of his temper even though she could tell her stubbornness and her arguments had greatly annoyed him.

"Maybe that's because I'm topless in the house where I was once tortured, being ordered around by a man who once hexed me into a hospital bed and being treated like a complete idiot," she retorted coldly, "Get your hands off me and get the hell out of my face or so help me, you will regret it."

He narrowed those grey eyes of his upon her and in that moment she hated them. Her son had the same eyes and he used them to get away with everything. The idea that he'd clearly inherited them from Draco upset her more than it had a right to. Not because she loathed the colour or loathed Draco or wished he wasn't Etamin's father. No, Hermione hated them because she was too used to giving in when they sparkled that molten silver colour.

"Drink the potion, Granger," he demanded, removing one hand from the nape of her neck where he'd tangled his fingers into her loose curls. Inside his fist he still clutching the small phial of potion labelled as Calming Draught in elegantly loopy script.

He held it in front of her face, backing off only so far as to hold it in front of her nose.

"I don't need a Calming Draught. I am perfectly calm," Hermione argued with him.

"You're the farthest one can get from calm before the screaming begins," he disagreed with her, "I'm not leaving until you drink it, so you can either cooperate, or I can pour it down your neck. Your choice."

"Damn it, Malfoy! I don't need a bleeding potion to control my emotions! I need you to get out of my space when I'm clutching nothing more than a scrap of fabric to my chest to hide my nudity from your lecherous gaze. I need you to back the hell off me and I need you to stop trying to boss me around as though you own me just because we share a child!" Hermione snarled at him, using her only free hand to shove none too gently against his solid chest, forcing him back a step.

"You're about to cry or scream at me, Granger," he argued, "Just drink the bloody potion. You've had a fucked up day and you have every right to be at the end of your wick. But it's not conducive to seeing you bathed, and put to bed for the fucking night before you cry your eyes out in my chest and we both end up covered in several fireplace's worth of soot. I'm not leaving until you drink the potion, so you can drink it now or I can strip you, shove you in the shower and make sure you get clean that way while you cry your fucking eyes out!"

Hermione shrieked at him in pure frustration, snatching the phial from his hand, prying the cork stoppering it free - with her teeth since her other hand was busy keeping her modesty - before pouring the contents into her mouth and gulping them down.

"Don't you dare throw that phial either, witch," he warned when Hermione thought about doing just that, "You will not throw glass phials in a room my son is likely to spend a good deal of time in."

Hermione just knew she was going to murder Draco Malfoy over all of the rules he meant to implement that surround the safety of Etamin. As though she wouldn't have made sure every sliver of glass was removed before morning when Etamin would indeed come dashing into her room demanding play time and breakfast?

"Let go of me, Malfoy," Hermione replied rather than shrieking at him again like she wanted too. She was bordering on being irrational about things and she was thinking seriously about collecting Etamin from the other room and Flooing right back out of Malfoy Manor and over to her parent's summer house near Brocklehurst.

She knew it wouldn't actually be a good idea, no matter how much she would currently like to be as far from Draco Malfoy as possible. She was tired. She was cranky. She was emotionally fraught and she just wanted to curl up and have a good cry about the sudden and unexpected end to her marriage. She wanted to sob and rage over the idea that Ron had cheated on her again. She wanted to weep over the idea that she was now going to have to learn to tolerate Malfoy, possibly for the rest of her natural life because he was the father of her son.

She didn't want to stand there and fight with Malfoy about staying in his house. She didn't want to discuss the idea that society and his mother would try to insist she marry the sodding git. She certainly didn't want to discuss the fact that her marriage had just gone to hell in a handbasket and that she'd apparently shagged Malfoy five years ago in ways she still blushed about when she recalled them. She'd done terribly depraved things to the man currently glaring at her so furiously and, truth be told, right in that moment she wouldn't even mind doing them again. Despite her anger and her embarrassment and her emotional upheaval, a good shag with a particularly capable partner sounded like a perfect cure to all of her problems, at least temporarily.

And the fact that she couldn't do that either was only frustrating her all the more.

"Are you going to fall over the end table if I let you go?" he asked, having already kept her from falling on her arse over the end table twice merely by holding onto her.

"Not if you get out of my personal space," she replied just as coldly.

He narrowed his eyes further before untangling his hand from in her hair and taking a step back from her. She realised as soon as he did it that it was the worst thing he could have done right then. Stepping back meant he was once again able to stare at her scantily clad body and the idea made her feel funny inside. A hot, moist kind of funny that tingled in places she'd almost forgotten she had. The feel of his eyes raking over her so boldly made her want to drop her bra and see what he made of her. Especially when she remembered what he'd made of her last time they'd been naked in the same room.

"Are you calming down and capable of looking at things rationally again?" he demanded rather than commenting on her nudity or lingering over it.

Hermione clutched her bra tighter to her body when she realised that for someone as notoriously lecherous as Draco Malfoy, he seemed to be doing an excellent job of remaining on topic. In fact he seemed like he was genuinely invested in making sure she didn't do something stupid and it was clear to her beyond any doubt that he was serious about being a good father to their son. He could've sexualised the moment. He could've made a lewd comment about them arguing while she wore so little. He could've raked a hot gaze over her that would've had her knees turning to pudding.

But he didn't. Instead he glared at her and wanted to make damn sure she was going to stay put at the Manor until things could be sorted out and until the immediate and pressing urge she felt to get herself and her child to safety had abated.

"I never stopped being capable of rationalising things Malfoy," Hermione told him, "I merely argued that you are not allowed to butt into my life so much as to dictate what I can and cannot do."

"Everything you do from here on out affects me, Granger. Do you get that?" he asked, frowning at her as though she were thicker than a troll, "Our son depends on your safety. He's just had one parent ripped from his life and a different one crammed into the space left behind. He doesn't know me yet. He doesn't trust me or know he can rely on me. He's not ever sure about following my bloody rules. He needs you now, more than ever. I get that you're undoubtedly a wreck right now. Your husband is a cheating git who got violent with you. You fled your own bloody home and came here, the sight of your fucking torture. You've got every right to be bordering on a hysterical fucking breakdown. But I need you to keep it together long enough not to do something stupid. Don't leave the Manor. Don't go to work. Don't run to some other place where I can't help you keep our kid alive."

He stepped closer to her again as though he couldn't help invading her personal space. Indeed, he lifted his hands once more and this time slipped them into her hair at the back of her head, his nails scraping lightly against her scalp in a way that felt utterly divine. Hermione had to fight against the urge to simply close her eyes and enjoy the sensation of being so intimately yet innocently touched.

"Everything else can be handled tomorrow," he went on, coming close enough that she could breathe in the spicy, crisp scent of his cologne, "But right now you need help, even just for a little while. Let me provide it. Let me handle this fucking mess."

"I thought you said my marriage and my mess with Ron was my problem," Hermione murmured.

"I did say that," he nodded his head, brow still furrowed as he frowned into her face, "But that was before Weasley hurt you. That was before he insulted my son and endangered his physical and mental wellbeing. That was before he reacted so violently that you crawled from my Floo and gasped about not letting Weasley through after you because you feared he would kill you. You literally said he would kill you."

Hermione blinked, recalling that she had indeed said that and feared that when she'd come through the fireplace before handing Etamin off to him and nearly collapsing herself in her fear and her confusion.

"That made it my business, Granger. You might not want me sticking my nose into your life, but it's too late for that. Which is why as soon as you're showering, I will dispatch an owl to your secretary informing her briefly of this evenings events, insisting on personal days and asking her to handle all the other aspects of your professional life until it's safe for you to leave the Manor again. If she is also aware of the arrangements you make for Etamin, I will have her notify Tussaints and the muggle primary school you said he attends on Tuesdays to ensure they don't expect him for the rest of the week at least. In the morning I will speak to my lawyer and have your divorce handled swiftly. Do you object?"

Hermione found herself staring at him wide-eyed. He had listened. He'd been paying enough attention when she'd told him about Etamin to know he was expected at his muggle primary school tomorrow morning. Draco Malfoy had done in one day what Ron Weasley had taken weeks to achieve. He'd listened to her when she explained her son's schedule and he understood that arrangements needed to be seen to regarding that schedule.

If she hadn't just ingested her second dose of Calming Draught for the evening, Hermione might've swooned slightly at the very idea.

"How are you going to owl my assistant when you don't even know her name?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Her name is Rebecca Hampstead and she lives in Surrey," Malfoy replied, "I would owl her at her home address."

"You know her full name and where she lives?" Hermione asked, baffled.

Had he slept with Becky at some stage that he knew that?

"Don't give me that look, I've never bedded the witch," he told her, smirking a little at her obvious surprise, "I make a point of investigating the people who associate with my son when I learn I have one."

"Because you've had so much practice at that?" Hermione asked, utterly confused now, "You've known you were a father for three whole days. How do you already know about my assistant's role in Etamin's life?"

"I make it a point to know, Granger," Malfoy replied evenly, "Do you imagine me to be a man of little means or excessive scruples? When I learn I have a son with a woman I've not spoken to in five bloody years and didn't realise I'd shagged, I pay people to investigate everyone in my son's life. I could probably tell you more about you, your husband, Potter and his family as well as your assistant, your parents and everyone else Etamin associates with than you're even aware of."

"Then why did you ask me questions about him today?" Hermione asked, "What did you do? Have me followed?"

"Yes," he nodded, "I had you and your friends and family followed. I had people dig into your records, your life and even the articles written about you over the past five years. I've had three whole days to get used to the idea of having a son. I had to find out that Etamin was mine, and I needed to confirm it with you since no one else knew about the evening we spent together at Grad Ball. But I looked into you and yours nonetheless."

"I feel so… violated," Hermione admitted, "Who did you have looking into us? If there are pictures of me naked, I'm going to hurt you."

"You're making quite the picture right now, actually," he smirked her, "But the elves don't take pictures. They simply report back to me everything they are able to find out in the short amount of time allotted to them to conduct the investigation. I will tell you, however, that I know you have a birth mark on your left arse cheek."

"You already knew that," Hermione replied, recalling he'd found the mark the night they'd spent together so long ago. In fact he'd seemed rather fascinated by it. Not that she was surprised, given that beyond his few scars, he had no birthmarks marring his alabaster flesh.

"I did," he chuckled, "Though I wouldn't object to having you confirm that it actually was you the night of Grad Ball."

"Now you want to see my arse as well?" Hermione demanded, "And you're in my space again."

He glanced down at her body, following his hands to where they were buried in her hair.

"Don't change the subject, Granger," he warned, though he didn't look very stern about it, "I mean, you do have a birthmark there, don't you? I'm not confusing you with someone else?"

"Do you have so many illegitimate children than you think you could do? Or do you just get drunk and shag strangers so often that you can't recall?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Don't get snippy with me, just show me the mark."

"I'm not showing you my arse. I'm having enough trouble keeping you from seeming my boobs," Hermione protested, "You know it was me because my son is identical to you as a boy. You just want to see my arse again because once you found that stupid mark, you couldn't stop touching it."

"I've never shagged anyone else who has one," he shrugged his shoulders, "I was intrigued. No one else I know even has one."

"I feel so special," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes, "Are you going to continue touching me and standing so close?"

"If you show me your arse, then yes," he replied, cheekily.

"I'm not going to show you my arse."

"I might keep touching you and standing close anyway. You're kind of clumsy."

"You're kind of rude," Hermione replied, "Just get off me. You're making me uncomfortable."

"I imagine damp knickers would be rather uncomfortable," he chuckled in reply and Hermine swatted at him for being so rude and cheeky.

"Stop it Malfoy. I'm half naked, I'm uncomfortable and you're making me nervous. Didn't you say you have an owl to send off?" she asked, trying to distract him and feeling rather alarmed by his rapid change of mood.

"I do have, yes, but I recall saying I wouldn't send it until you were safely in the shower," he told her, "So you'll have to get in there before I'm going to leave."

"How do you propose I do that when you've cornered me against the end table and won't stop touching me?" Hermione wanted to know.

His wickedly smile and the hot gaze he raked over her answered that question loud and clear.

"Not going to happen," she warned, narrowing her eyes on him again.

"It's already happened once, or we wouldn't be here and Etamin wouldn't exist," he reminded her.

"Fortunately, I happen to be a very clever person," Hermione replied sweetly, "On rare occurrences when I make such mistakes, I make sure never to make the same one twice."

"If that were true you'd never have married Weasley," he replied unkindly and Hermione felt a twist of pain in her chest at his causal mention of Ron's infidelity.

The pain his comment inflicted must've reflected in her eyes because he suddenly tipped his head back and sighed heavily as though he knew he'd just made a mistake but was too proud to apologise for it. Hermione stared at him as he glanced at her again, still not apologising.

Unfortunately for her, the most painful thing about the comment was that it was true. She never should have married Ron. She'd foolishly let herself confuse being comfortable with someone for being in love with them. She'd married him despite the fact that he'd cheated on her repeatedly and despite her being pregnant with someone else's child. She didn't even know if what she felt for him was love. True, they'd been through a lot during the war and over the twelve long years they had known each other.

She loved him, but she was beginning to think she wasn't in love with him. He was simply there and he could be so sweet sometimes. It just didn't make sense to her that he could do this again now. She'd been so sure when she'd told him she was pregnant with the child of someone who wasn't him, that he'd leave. He'd proposed instead and during the past five years of marriage, things had been good.

He'd quit being an Auror when George needed help at the shop. They had their ups and downs of course, but she'd been assured that happened for every couple. He'd been sweet and he'd been good to her. He'd cared for Etamin as though the boy were his own when Etamin had been just a toddler. He'd never shirked on helping her with feeding the baby or changing diapers or getting up in the middle of the night when he cried.

He'd settled. Hermione cold still remember the glow of love in Ron's eyes the day she'd laboured to bring Etamin into the world. He'd looked peaceful and like she was the only thing he'd want for the rest of his life. Hermione just didn't understand how a few fights and her stubbornness over not having more children yet had landed her in this mess.

He'd shagged Astoria Greengrass in their bed. What was worse was that he'd been doing so at a time when he knew he would get caught. Had Malfoy not come to her office that afternoon, she'd have left at four when Ginny dropped off Etamin and she'd have been on her way home just in time to catch him with his mistress.

Hermione didn't even want to think about the fact that poor Etamin had walked in on the despicable couple. He was too young to fully grasp what sex was and how important monogamy was in a relationship, but he was also exceedingly bright. He understood that such 'cuddling' had caused him to come into being. She didn't know if he would recognise Ron shagging another woman as him 'cuddling' her in the baby-making way, but that wasn't really the point. He'd had the bloody door open for crying out loud.

There had been lingerie and clothing scattered throughout the house.

Everything that followed only made it all that much worse but Hermione just couldn't understand it. What had gone so wrong? It wasn't as though she hadn't been shagging him often enough or anything. She hadn't been kidding when she'd scoffed about how often she slept with him. Every bloody morning she let him climb on top of her and have sex with her.

Sometimes she even let him do it again before bed.

There was no doubt in her mind that he wasn't getting enough sex. He hadn't strayed because he was blue-balling or whatever they called it. No, his timing and his location for the encounter were clearly designed to completely rub her nose in the fact that if she didn't want to fuck him and let him knock her up, there were plenty of other witches who would. Witches, Hermione decided as her eyes narrowed hatefully, who really ought to have known better.

Hermione had always considered herself to be a moral sort of person, but some of her scruples had just officially run out. He'd purposely set out to hurt her and to get caught. Clearly he thought that doing so would result in her giving into what he wanted. Because last time he'd done it, she'd rewarded him by marrying him. Well, Ron Weasley and every other woman he'd ever laid a hand on were going to get a nasty shock very soon.

"Why are you looking at me like that Granger?" Malfoy asked, his fingers still in her hair as he continued standing well within her personal space, "You're looking at me in a way that makes me nervous. And I don't unnerve so easily these days."

Hermione blinked and looked back up, meeting his curious yet cautious gaze.

"He intended to get caught," Hermione told him, "He was screwing that little tart in my bed. At a little after five in the afternoon. He knew I would be home around that time with Etamin in tow. They left a trail of clothing to the bedroom. He wanted me to catch him tonight."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed as well at the very idea.

"Why?" he asked, looking like he didn't understand it, "Given how angry you claim he was when you packed your things, it hardly seems like he actually meant to initiate a divorce."

"Because the last time he cheated on me with the little slut, I shagged you, got pregnant, forgave him for being a philanderer and married him. He's been harping me incessantly about having more kids. We agreed when we married that we'd have a whole tribe of children, actually."

"And you've been refusing," he nodded his head slowly, "Why is that? If you went into it under the assumption that you'd have lots of kids, why refuse more now?"

"Because I'm only twenty-four," Hermione rolled her eyes, "I gave up a good part of my youth – all of it, in fact – to be fighting in a war and then almost immediately to be a good mother. I'm young. I should be having fun and enjoying my life. Building my career the way I've always wanted to. Going to Ministry do's and other events that I get invited to. Etamin's at an age now where he can be left with a sitter or my parents without being a burden. He doesn't need to be changed or fed every hour. He can contentedly sit and read his book or draw or play without needing me for something. I wasn't about to sign up for all the late nights and the screaming and crying and never-ending nappy-changes again so soon."

"Weasley would have loved that," Malfoy rolled his eyes, "What was he hoping? That you'd end up just like his mother?"

"Yes," Hermione admitted, "He wanted lots of kids. He had a cow when I told him I was going back to work last year. He wanted to get caught today because he thought that I would give in as a means of keeping him as my husband."

"You realise that even if you wanted to go back to him, I wouldn't allow it, don't you Granger?" he asked mildly, raising one eyebrow at her.

"Are you trying to tell me what to do again?" Hermione demanded, narrowing her eyes at him once more.

"I'm stating facts. You're divorcing him. You're moving in here and staying. These are facts. I don't care if you've actually lost your fucking mind and want to take the useless fucker back, it won't be happening. Because honestly, if you try to take my son back to a situation like that, I'll recant signing away my custody of the kid and you'll never see him again."

"Now you're threatening me?" Hermione snarled, her temper flaring once more despite the Calming Draught, the idea made her so angry.

How dare he try to control her through her son?

"Facts, Granger," he reminded her, "I deal in facts. The first fact being that Weasley is a fuck-head who has essentially brainwashed you into pandering to his will. The second fact being that Weasley is a fuck-head who called my son 'Death Eater spawn'. It is a fact that he's a violent lunatic. It is also a fact that you will not take my son anywhere near him ever again. No, don't point your fucking finger at me witch, I mean it. Nothing about your marriage was healthy and you soon-to-be ex-husband is a bad influence that I will not expose Etamin to ever again. If you want to go back to the cunt, you go right…. Actually, no! You know what? No! I don't care if you want to go back to him. It's not happening. You're staying here. Etamin in staying here. And Weasley had better watch his fucking back because if he's not ruined by the time you're finished with him, he'll have to deal with me."

Hermione stared at him, her mouth hanging open in utter shock at his entirely serious expression. He didn't look angry or unreasonable, just utterly determined. He meant exactly what he said and Hermione got the feeling that if she tried to defy his wishes, he would grow less than pleasant.

"Objections?" he asked when several minutes passed while she simply stared at him, wondering when Draco Malfoy had become so authoritive. She didn't doubt he'd always been demanding, but it was clear he would do anything in his power to make sure he kept to what he said.

"I…" Hermione opened her mouth before closing it again without continuing, trying to get her thoughts in order.

He raised both eyebrows at her seriously.

Hermione couldn't even think. There was something alarming and rather arousing about the way he was bossing her around as though he owned her. As though he cared about what happened to her, where she went and who she associated with. In fact, she could feel her heart beating a little faster inside her chest.

"Aroused?" he smirked as though he could read every though right off her face and Hermione feel her cheeks turn pink.

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione snapped, "I don't have any objections to staying far away from Ron, but I will be going back to work as soon as things have calmed down.

"I'm never ridiculous, Granger," he replied cockily, "You're aroused by the fact that I'm telling you what to do, even if you don't want to admit it. Now, are you staying here or do you mean to continue fighting me about the idea of moving to your parent's place?"

"I hate being told what to do," Hermione argued, even though her cheeks darkened even more, "But fine. We will stay. It's a terrible idea and we'll most likely kill one another, but Etamin and I will stay. If things get too complicated or difficult, I will make other arrangements. What are we going to do about your mother?"

"We can deal with everything else tomorrow," he shrugged, his fingers still digging into her scalp divinely, "Now, are you going to get in the shower or am I going to have to make you?"

"You're still touching me and crowding me or I'd have been showered and out again by now," Hermione replied, squashing down the traitorous thoughts that clouded her mind concerning the fine distraction letting him shower with her might make. The last thing she needed to do was sleep with him ever again. Last time she'd done so she'd been drunk and she'd had no idea it was actually him. The idea of ever doing so again when she knew it was him and what an arrogant, smug, rakish bastard he was made her feel slightly icky inside. Who knew how many other girls had spread their legs for him since the last time she'd done so? She wasn't signing up for round two.

And the fluttering place low in her abdomen could just get used to it.

"If you'd really wanted to get past me, you could have," he smirked in return before slowly pulling his hands free of her hair.

He lowered them to his sides once more and continued standing well within her personal space for several long minutes before finally stepping back from her. This time he made sure to rake a hot gaze over her exposed flesh. Hermione felt goosebumps prickle across her skin as he did so and she tried to better conceal her body from his gaze.

"Are you going to be this demanding, rude and invasive for the rest of time?" Hermione asked him as she turned her back to him, picked up her night gown once more and made for the bathroom she could see beyond the main bedroom.

"Yes," he replied, "If you need anything for the length of time you are living here, call for Mipsy."

An elf appeared with a crack. Hermione turned towards the creature, now clutching her dressing gown to her chest and thus better concealed from his hot gaze. The elf was small and undoubtedly young. She wore a clean and pressed pink pillow case that she'd clearly fashioned into a little uniform for herself. Rather than being shapeless and tied on with knots, it had been sewn into a little skirt and a top. Hermione was startled to learn that though Dobby had been bald, this little elf had hair.

"Master?" Mipsy asked, blinking big blue eyes up at Malfoy.

"Mipsy, this is Hermione Granger. She'll be living here from now on, along with my son, Etamin. You are now Hermione's elf, do you understand. You are to see to her needs. You may accept any task she asks of your excepting those that I have forbidden of you. You are also, under no circumstances to listen to her should she try to present you with clothes and set your free."

"But I is already free, master?" Mipsy blinked again, glancing at Hermione, "Miss Hermione, she invent the laws saying we elves to be given uniforms and paid if we wants."

"She will still try to convince you to leave your service, Mipsy," Malfoy told the elf before shooting a glance at Hermione, "She's very stubborn and doesn't understand that you enjoy serving."

"Mipsy will help her understand, Master. Mipsy will be the bestest elf for Miss Hermione."

"Malfoy, I don't need an elf to see to my needs, I am perfectly capable for taking care of myself and my son."

"You do need an elf," he disagreed, "You'll get lost or you'll do something stupid like wandering off in search of the kitchen or the library. And then you'll get lost. The rules I made about Etamin not wandering off on his own apply to you too, Granger. No wandering. No exploring. If you leave this room for any reason but to come to my door or be escorted by me somewhere until I've had a chance to show you around, I'll let the ghoul in the dungeons eat you."

"You would not," Hermione retorted without thinking even as her amusement bubbled up at the idea of him trying to boss her around and confine her to her room, "You care too much about our son to ever let anything happen to me."

She smirked wickedly at him as she watched the way his gaze jerked up to meet hers sharply when he heard her words, his eyes narrowing as though he didn't at all like the idea of her knowing that. Turning her back on him, Hermione sauntered away and into the bathroom, very much aware of his gaze as it raked over the bare expanse of her now-healed back and over the way her arse looked in her tight skirt.

"Goodnight, Malfoy," Hermione called over her shoulder before she closed the bathroom door and locked it behind her.

She didn't hear him reply, but she was too busy sighing in delight at the sight of the bathroom she'd just entered. She'd never seen a nice bathroom. It was clear that over the years since the house had been built, the bathroom had been updated and it was an excursion in decadence. There was an enormous spa-bath that looked like it had been made for lounging in. A large shower with lots of taps that seemed designed to spray water from every angle looked like it was going to be her new favourite thing in the world. The space was large, yet cosy. Bath towels awaited her, hanging fresh and clean on the racks by the tub and Hermione eyed it. She could shower quickly and head to bed, though she wasn't really tired despite her emotional evening. Or she could sink to her nose in that lavish marble spa bath and simply soak away her troubles. Glancing between the two, Hermione felt a smile grow upon her lips.

Moving over to the tub, she found the plug and put it in before running the taps. She stripped out of her skirt quickly until she was naked before hurrying to pull her dressing gown back on. She returned to the bedroom to retrieve her bubble-bath and her products along with a book and Hermione stopped in her tracks at the sight of four elves inside the room.

They were in the process of unpacking her things and Hermione watched in fascination and horror as they magically unpacked her entire life from her trunk. Her clothing was all hung in the walk-in robe. Her books filled the bookshelves until they overflowed. Her shoes were all lined up neatly inside the wardrobe, paired up accordingly. Her picture frames and other knick-knack too were being arranged around the room and Hermione looked on with interest when the elves found the number of flowers vases she'd been give over the years. They seemed to be arguing about where to put them all and what kinds of flowers she might like best.

"I like daffodils, sunflowers and anything purple," she told the elves as she watched them.

It occurred to her that she ought to be annoyed with Malfoy for sending them all in here to do something she could do for herself. And that he'd told her that if she was staying she would have a room that wasn't across from his own bedroom, but she was too amused by the sight of the elves squabbling over flowers and vase placement to mention it.

"See!" Mipsy declared, "I telled you she like the purple and yellow ones best!"

The other elves looked at Mipsy in annoyance.

"I like the others too. Roses are nice. Lilies are lovely. Tulips are divine. But I do like yellow flowers best."

"Yellow is the happiest colour," Mipsy agreed with her, "Miss Hermione is you be wanting us to put your pictures of Master Etamin and you here by the bed?"

"Not that one, Mipsy," Hermione shook her head, frowning at the 'family' photo of her, Ron and Etamin together.

"Miss is not be liking this man anymore," the elf she recognised as Zippy nodded wisely, "This one will be better by the bed."

She held up one of just Hermione and Etamin together.

"That's my favourite one," Hermione agreed, "And that one, over there, of my parents. Could you put it on the mantel? Rather than so close to the bed?"

"Of course Miss. Is you be wanting us to move anything else?" another elf asked. Hermione noticed that like Mispy this one wore a pressed and clean uniform and even had his name embroidered on it. 'Muggy'.

"Not right now, Muggy," Hermione smiled at him, "Do any of you know what has become of my bathroom products and my bubble-bath?"

"Here they is, Miss Hermione," Mipsy brought them to her looking pleased, "We is not wanting to be disturbing you while you bathed. Master said you might not like that."

"Master might be smarter than I've given him credit for," Hermione replied, chuckling at Malfoy's thoughtfulness.

"Master very clever, Miss," Zippy assured her.

"Are there more of you unpacking Etamin's things as well?" Hermione wanted to know.

"We is be doing that when we finish here, Miss Hermione," Muggy told her, "Muggy is being Master Etamin's elf from now on so we will unpack his things. Master suggested you might object to us unpacking while you slept so we started with your things."

Hermione nodded her head, thanking Mipsy as she was handed all of her things for the bathroom that she might need.

"Is you be wanting candles while you bathe, Miss?" Zippy asked her.

"Oh. Erm. I don't have any nice ones," Hermione admitted.

"We get you some, Miss," Mipsy cried before disapparating.

Hermione blinked but smiled at the idea. She went to the bookshelf and scanned the titles with her eyes, wondering what she had that might take her mind of things for a little while. She didn't usually read many novels, if she was being honest. She preferred to read textbooks and to learn new things whenever she could, but she was sure that trying to absorb anything new right now would be a wasted effort. Selecting a novel that Harry had bought for her the previous year, Hermione supposed it wouldn't hurt to finally get around to actually reading it. It was a silly romance novel filled with love and passion and heart-ache, but it would have to do. She only owned a few other novels and she'd read all of them many times over.

"Is you be wanting some wine while you read and bathe Miss Hermione?" Muggy asked of her as he watched her, "Mistress always likes wine when she soaks."

"That would be delightful," Hermione sighed, "Maybe a sweet red?"

"Right away Miss," Muggy grinned at her before also disappearing.

"Zippy?" Hermione asked of the other elf in the room. There was a fourth, but that one had stayed silent and not even looked in her direction.

"Miss Hermione?" Zippy asked.

Hermione could tell from the way she carried herself that Zippy was the head elf within the Malfoy household.

"Are Mr and Mrs Malfoy upset that I am here?" she asked the elf quietly.

"The Master and Mistress are with Master Draco now," Zippy answered carefully, "They is... Mistress is sad she not know of her grandson until now. Master is..."

"Unhappy to have a muggleborn in his home and that his grandson is a half-blood instead of a prestigious pureblood like the rest of his bloodline," Hermione summarised whe Zippy seemed to have trouble describing Lucius's feelings, "I thought as much. Do you... is there anything you can think of that I might be able to do to make my being here more tolerable for the Mistress and the Masters?"

Zippy looked startled to be asked her opinion on the matter and to be being consulted regarding wizarding matters.

"Miss is asking Zippy's opinion?" Zippy asked carefully, "Miss is be… wanting to serve?"

"I have found during my time spent working with house elves that you are loyal creatures, Zippy, and that you value the right to serve your families above all else. As such I know that you will know what might be best to put the Masters and the Mistress in a better mood. I want them to be comfortable with having me live here. I do not wish for them to be uncomfortable inside their own home."

Zippy looked thoughtful and Hermione noticed that for the first time all evening, the fourth, silent elf in the room turned to look at her with wide eyes.

"You is wanting to make them happy?" the elf asked her shrewdly.

She got the feeling the little beast must be the personal elf of Lucius.

"Yes," Hermione admitted, "I'd like them to be happy to have me living here. I don't doubt that Narcissa will be accepting of me as long as she can see Etamin because I know that more than anything, she values family. However, I am still a muggle-born witch who had a one-night-stand with her son, conceived her grandson and made no effort to learn Draco's identity as Etamin's father. If there is something I can do that will ease the transition for both Narcissa and Lucius to tolerate having me here, I would like to give it a try."

"May we thinks about it, Miss Hermione?" Zippy asked her, "It is not always so easy to know what the Mistress or the Masters might like and we be needing to think carefully about how you might makes them more happy with your presence."

"Of course Zippy," Hermione nodded her head, "Take as much time as you think you'll need."

Zippy nodded her head wisely, looking thoughtful and rather like her opinion of Hermione had just escalated slightly. Hermione nodded again before tucking her book under her arm and returning to the bathroom. When Mipsy and Muggy returned with her candles, her bubble-bath and her glass of wine, Hermione thanked them and lowered herself into the warm water with an audible sigh of delight. She sipped on her wine as she opened her book and allowed herself to be transported into the fictional reality within.


	12. 12: King of Anything

**A/N: Thanks ever so much to those of you who've taken the time to read and review this story. I'm so pleased you've been for forthcoming with your praise. I apologise that this chapter is later than I'd have liked it to be. I got waylaid. I hope you enjoy this one. Much love! xx-Kitten.**

* * *

 **Better Dig Two**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 12: King of Anything**

* * *

The minute he'd dispatched an owl to Granger's secretary and another to Theodore Nott – his lawyer in addition to his best friend – Draco fixed himself a glass of whiskey, knowing without even needing to enter his father's office that his mother and father were undoubtedly waiting for him. Granger's arrival had been rather poorly timed as he'd been right in the middle of explaining to them how it had come to be that they were actually grandparents. To make matters worse, he'd spent longer than intended showing Granger and Etamin to their suite, putting his son to bed and discussing things with Granger.

He did not doubt that his parents would be beyond furious with having to wait so long to discuss all of this with them. Hence, the whiskey. Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, Draco took a moment to gather his patience before carrying his glass with him as he made his way across the Manor and over to his Father's study.

"What took so long?" Lucius asked without preamble when he entered.

"Getting Etamin bathed and put to bed," Draco shrugged his shoulders, "And then a rather stern discussion with Granger about her living arrangements from now on."

His parents both seemed rather surprised by his tone and Draco couldn't say he blamed them. He'd spent the better part of the years since he'd completed his education working, bedding entirely too many witches that his mother approved for marriage but Draco found utterly boring, and otherwise spending his youth avoiding responsibility whenever possible.

Lucius eyed him over the rim of his own glass of whiskey, seated behind his polished mahogany desk and looking as though he were about to broker the biggest business deal of his life. Narcissa stood by the window across the room, peering out over the grounds and watching the storm that had rolled in for the evening as it raged beyond the safety of the house. As always, she was the picture of sophisticated grace. Her long dress of deep purple silk and lace hung just so, her hair was perfectly styled, the long blonde locks having been coaxed into soft, controlled waves that hung neatly about her face. She wasn't looking at him, but Draco suspected she was wearing her pinched expression, the one she so often wore whenever she was put out with him.

"Explain to me how this happened, Draco," Lucius commanded of him, taking a sip of his whiskey before he set down the elfin crystal and laced his fingers before himself.

"Etamin's conception?" Draco clarified, crossing the room to lean by the bookshelf, not at all in the mood for a full Lucius Malfoy Interrogation.

Lucius inclined his head in confirmation.

"Graduation Ball at Hogwarts I encountered Granger in the Room of Requirement when she sought refuge from her friends whilst attempting to console herself after catching Weasley shagging Astoria Greengrass even though they were, at that time, an item. She had been drinking, she was bent on revenge and I happened along, also inebriated and enjoying the anonymity of the masquerade theme of the evening."

"You slept with her?" Lucius confirmed.

"Obviously," Draco smirked.

"How is it that you failed to recognise one another?" Lucius asked, "I hardly need point out that, at that time, your Dark Mark would still have been the bright, angry red it scared. Did she not recognise it?"

"I don't think she spotted it, to be honest," Draco admitted, "I used to use glamour charms to hide it. And we didn't recognise one another because neither of use removed our masks. She'd styled her hair straight too, so those tell-tale curls weren't on display at the time."

Lucius scowled slightly.

"You forgot to use contraception?" he confirmed.

"I did mention that we were both inebriated," Draco pointed out.

"Can we be certain the boy is you son?" Lucius asked quietly.

"Did you not get a good look at him, Father?" Draco drawled, "He's identical to me as a boy, so unless you've an illegitimate heir who might have sired him, or unless you sired him yourself, it stands to reason that he is mine. Especially given that I _have_ shagged his mother."

Lucius's scowl deepened even more.

"How long have you known about Etamin, Draco?" his mother asked quietly from the window without turning to look at him.

"Since I ran into Granger in Diagon Alley three days ago," Draco told her truthfully, "I wanted to confirm that I wasn't incorrectly recalling my own appearance as a boy, and to dig into his life and Granger's to find out if he was potentially not Weasley's child, as they had claimed publicly. His birth record was left as the father being blank, until this afternoon."

"You've already altered his records?" Lucius asked, his eyes narrowing, "Without proof of a blood test to confirm your blood bond to the boy?"

Draco eyed his father for a long moment in annoyance while he took another swig of his drink.

"I've already tested his blood. I had the elves collect a sample of it for testing when I had them spying on the boy and his mother. I have altered my records to list him as my heir, including changing his name from Etamin Antares Granger-Weasley to Etamin Antares Malfoy. I signed custody of him to Granger, as it was the only way she would allow the name change, however she has agreed that she will be residing here from now on in order for the two of us to co-parent and raise the boy."

Lucius looked thunderstruck.

"Draco, she's a mudblood," he hissed dangerously after several long minutes of glaring that Draco did not doubt was meant to cow him, as it had done in the past.

"I am aware of her blood status, Father," Draco retorted, "You may recall that I spent a good seven years tormenting her over it and being utterly rotten to her about something she could not help. More to the point, she is the mother of my son, the mother of your grandson. You will _not_ refer to her by that term, nor will you object to her living here. Where she goes, Etamin goes and if you truly mean to throw them out of the Manor, I will leave with them."

"Draco, be serious!" Lucius hissed, looking aghast.

Draco thought seriously about hurling his glass at his father in annoyance.

"Lucius," Narcissa spoke up before Draco could unleash his temper, "You will not throw that girl or our grandson from this house, or so help me Merlin, I will murder you myself."

Lucius turned his narrowed gaze upon his wife for a long moment, looking furious.

"You can't actually mean to allow the girl to stay," his father protested, focusing his attention on his wife.

Draco watched the way his mother turned slowly towards her husband, her eyes narrowed to slits and her expression fierce.

"Our grandson will not live anywhere but within this Manor, Lucius," she warned him in a low, dangerous voice that she very rarely used for anything. The tone of her voice sent a chill down Draco's spine. It was easy to forget, at times, that his mother was an extremely powerful witch. She spent so much of her time keeping to the high-society customs and fussing about balls and galas that she often seemed shallow and a little empty-headed and overall, rather harmless.

But that was far from the case. There had been a time when his mother had been the backbone that held their family together and she would not allow anyone to rip her family apart, not even if that family expanded to include a muggle-born daughter-in-law and a half-blood grandson.

"Pray tell, Narcissa, how you think the likes of Mrs Granger-Weasley will survive an attachment to this family? Coming and going to attend her inane Ministry job and rubbing shoulders with the likes of Harry Potter and the Weasley clan?"

Narcissa's eyes narrowed further.

"Her affairs are her own, Father," Draco spoke up before his mother's plotting could be brought to light. He was in no mood to listen to her plans to see him wed Granger, "As soon as her divorce is handled and Weasley is... dealt with... she will be free to return to living her life however she sees fit as long as it includes allowing me to raise my son."

"Draco, darling, you can't mean to announce to the world that you are the boy's father without intention of wedding his mother," Narcissa warned in a falsely pleasant voice that made Draco's left eye twitch slightly, "You know that will be frowned upon with the upper circles."

"The upper circle will turn their noses up at the idea of Etamin being a half-blood too," Draco shrugged, "Granger and I barely know each other and are not romantically inclined, Mother. In any case, she is, for the time being, still married."

"Indeed, but she will not be for long. Have you seen to arrangements pertaining to her divorce?" his mother asked silkily.

"I've dispatched at owl to Theo," Draco replied, "He will be by tomorrow to draft the papers and document a report for the MLE to ensure that Weasley doesn't go getting within five hundred feet of Granger or my son."

"Ah, Theodore," Narcissa's smile was wicked at the mention, "Such a brilliant boy. I look forward to seeing him."

Draco wasn't sure he liked that smile.

"I assume you've also been dispatching owls this evening?" Draco asked, knowing the witch would already have her friends at the _Prophet_ and _Witch Weekly_ and a number of other news places on their way to interrogate them all about this unexpected turn of events.

"Rita and Silvia will be here tomorrow afternoon for tea," Narcissa smiled.

Lucius was glancing between the two of them looking very much like he meant to say something about the idea of getting Granger and Etamin as a permanent fixture within the Manor, and indeed, their lives.

"Oh, and just how will little Miss disaster hold up to the standard expected of her in the coming months in order to handle this delicately?" Lucius demanded.

"I dispatched an owl to Francios as well," Narcissa smiled, "He'll be here at ten tomorrow."

"I doubt even he will be able to whip that witch into shape," Lucius muttered unkindly, drinking deeply from his glass.

"She actually comes from money, Father," Draco informed him, "Her family have a number of estates. In the muggle world they are a part of the upper circles, from what I understand. I do not doubt that though she's never let on pertaining to her true heritage in that regard, she will know how to conduct herself in polite society."

"She associates with the Weasleys, Draco," Lucius rolled his eyes.

Draco rolled his eyes to himself as well. Thought it had been a good long while ago, he could still recall the bossy, snobby, uppity little bitch of a girl Hermione Granger had been upon her arrival at Hogwarts. She had been just as condescending, as sneering and as bossy as Draco had been himself. An only child like him, she'd possessed a higher than average vocabulary for an eleven year old. She'd had a habit of talking down to others and she'd been vicious in many of the comments she made that questioned the intelligence and competence of those around her. She might not have looked the part of a high-class child according to wizarding standards, but Draco could recall that the possessions she did have had all be brand new, but high quality.

She came from money. She came from a family that, though muggles, obviously spent a good deal of time at high class events and expecting perfection for their daughter. Draco frowned, recalling that they were teeth-healers. Perhaps they worked for the thrill of it? In any case, she might need pointers of wizarding customs, but he doubted she needed to be taught how to walk in heels or how to hold herself whilst dressed in a fancy ball gown.

"She has agreed to stay, yes?" his mother asked, crossing the room to touch his arm and draw his attention to her.

"For the time being," Draco nodded, "She is concerned about the idea of putting us out by having her here, but I have convinced her that she will not like the outcome should she attempt to keep my son from me by living elsewhere."

"She's not happy about being here?" Narcissa confirmed.

"She was tortured here, Mother," Draco reminded her quietly, "And she is aware of our prejudices. I doubt she feels comfortable within this house, but she will learn to adjust."

"Tell me about the boy, Draco," Lucius spoke up, "Did I, or did I not see him using a dictionary to look up the words she used that he did not understand?"

"You did," Draco nodded, "According to Granger, Etamin is a genius. Literally. The Ministry have been testing him and his levels of intelligence and his magical power has broken the testing system they currently have in place for children his age. He's brilliant. Bright. Sharp as a tack and sly to boot."

"Definitely yours then, darling," his mother smiled at him and Draco felt a glow of warmth at the infrequently spoken praise behind her statement.

"A dictionary, Draco? How old is the boy?" Lucius demanded.

"He's five," Draco told them, "I only met the kid properly this afternoon, so I don't know that much else about him. Though he informed me upstairs after his bath that Granger is his favourite person in the whole wide world."

"What about you?" Lucius asked, frowning.

"That's what I said," Draco chuckled, "He had the audacity to roll his eyes and point out that he'd just met me, but said I could be his favourite Dad, if I wanted to be."

"Why that cheeky little..."Lucius said, his eyes widening.

Draco nodded.

"We're really grandparents?" Lucius asked, sighing and deflating slightly into a more relaxed position.

"You really are," Draco nodded.

"A little more warning on the idea might have been nice," Lucius grumbled and Draco smirked to himself, knowing that was his father's way of admitting defeat for the time being.

"Are you sure you're ready for being a father, Draco?" his mother asked him softly, reaching up to brush his fringe from his eyes as though he were still just a boy and as though he weren't taller than her.

"No," Draco admitted softly, "I'm terrified. I sat with him and Granger while she read him a bedtime story and he held my hand... I can't stop staring at him, Mother. And it aches in here."

He touched a hand to his chest. His mother's eyes softened and a small, genuine smile of happiness crossed her face.

"Love," she nodded.

"That's what Granger said too," Draco told her, smirking crookedly.

"How is she taking all this? She's upset over the state of her marriage, obviously, but how did she take the news when you informed her that you're Etamin's father?"

Draco laughed.

"She swore a lot. And she vomited. And then she cried for a bit. I took some pictures of me as a boy with me to prove the resemblance, which she mistook for Etamin and she accused me of essentially stalking her child before I was able to explain," Draco shrugged his shoulders, "We argued custody and my being allowed to see Etamin. We argued about Weasley and the fact that he'd already been passive-aggressively treating Etamin differently because they lack a biological link."

"Salazar, well is it any wonder that she's a little distraught this evening?" Narcissa sighed.

Draco shook his head, "Not really. Emotional day for everyone, I think."

"Why did she vomit?" Lucius asked, frowning at his desk.

Draco looked over at his father for a long moment, realising the man was genuinely confused over that particular idea.

"She was forced to accept that she and I had been intimate, Father," Draco frowned in return, "Given our history, it was something of a shock to realise that we'd had sex. And the inebriation combined with the anonymity at the time of the incident meant that we were… a little more… forthcoming… with our proclivities and desires than we'd otherwise have been. Realising that the evening had been spent with one another was rather disconcerting."

Lucius smirked at him in amusement over the very idea.

"Now, unless you have anything else you wish to discuss with me," Draco said, draining his glass and eyeing both of his parents for a minute, "I'm going to go to bed."

"Goodnight, darling," his mother bade him quietly, reaching up on her toes to brush a kiss to his cheek, "Get some rest. You'll need your wits about you in the coming days."

Draco nodded, kissing his mother's cheek in return and nodding to his father before departing the office to leave them to their discussion or their own retirement towards bed. He strode back through the Manor quickly, and he found himself smiling slightly when he reached his door, recalling that his son and the woman he'd once done unspeakable things to were both sleeping in the rooms across from his own. For some reason, the idea pleased him. Grinning to himself, Draco entered his own room, crawled through the shower and fell into bed, feeling more exhausted than he had done in a long time.


	13. 13: Hold Me

**Edited: 12/8/17**

* * *

 **Better Dig Two**

 _By Kittenshft17_

* * *

 **Chapter 13: Hold Me**

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat bolt upright in bed when a bloodcurdling scream sounded, ripping him from sleep and making his heart race. His wand was gripped tightly in his fist and he blinked stupidly for a moment, trying to work out whether the screaming came from a residual effect of the terrible nightmare he'd been having or if it was coming from somewhere in the Manor.

"Granger!" he cursed, throwing back the covers and hauling himself out of bed.

Draco didn't even pause to gather a robe or a shirt before he flung open his bedroom door and burst through hers across the hall. The dark of the room was almost stifling as he flung himself into the room with his wand held aloft, ready to protect her from whatever caused her to utter that spine-chilling sound that usually only haunted his nightmares, not his waking hours too. Casting a _Lumos_ charm, Draco scanned the room with his eyes, looking for the source of her distress but found only the curly haired witch herself.

She writhed in the bed, her limbs flailing, her body shuddering, her face screwed up as though she were in pain. And all the while she screamed as he hadn't heard her scream since she'd been tortured on the floor of the Drawing Room. A nightmare. She must be having a nightmare.

"Shit! Come on Granger, wake up!" Draco commanded, crossing the room quickly and reaching for her, trying to rouse her before she could wake Etamin. He shot a Silencing spelled towards the door to Etamin's room, hoping the tyke had slept through the sound of her nightmare so far.

"Granger! Hermione! Wake up!" Draco said loudly, shaking her lightly.

She gasped in a fearful breath when her eyes snapped open and Draco felt the way she began to twist all the harder, instinctively reaching for her wand and trying to escape the hold he had on her. Draco released her and stepped back, holding his hands up to show that he was unarmed and meant her no harm. He'd dropped his wand on the bed by her prone form as he shook her and she wriggled until she gripped her own.

"Malfoy?" she asked, her voice hoarse and breathless with fear as her mind tried to catch up with reality.

"It's me, Granger," Draco said soothingly. "You were having a nightmare."

"I…" she whispered, her eyes still wide and terrified.

Draco watched with mounting concern when her bottom lip began to quiver and tremble. Her brown eyes began to fill before overflowing as tears spilled down her face and Draco sighed, realising that she'd obviously been pushed too far.

"I… h-h-haven't had that n-n-nightmare in y-y-years," she sobbed, dropping her wand once more and covering her face with her hands as she cried.

Draco felt rather like a rabbit in the Lumos-light, unsure how to comfort her this time. When she'd been crying in fear over Weasley, or in protest over Etamin's paternity, he had a vague idea of how to help. He was no stranger to offering comfort to vulnerable witches. Indeed, the papers labelled him rather famous for it based on his penchant to take advantage of such vulnerabilities.

But this was different.

This was unfamiliar territory because Draco knew, all too well, the role he played in the nightmare they shared. Her, the victim; him, the impotent bystander, looking on and doing nothing to save her. How could he possibly offer her comfort over it now when he'd been incapable of helping her then? Yet, how could he not try when she was so utterly distraught and when he spent so many a night following that one, wishing he had the chance to hold her until the fear and pain went away?

He might've fantasized a million times over the witch he'd shagged the night of graduation ball before learning that witch was Hermione Granger, but there was another part of him – the little-seen, repentant, human part of him – that had spent many long hours wishing he could take back that moment during her torture. Wishing he could've done more to help her; to save her; to protect her from the pain and the nightmares he'd known, all too well, would follow.

Edging toward her as she sat in the bed inside his house, Draco watched her cry and felt a painful twist inside himself. When he sat on the edge of the bed, she didn't draw away from him. When he reached with a shaking hand for the inconsolable witch, she didn't flinch back. When he smoothed a hand over her wild hair, she leaned into the soothing touch, seeking whatever comfort he offered. Breathing a sigh of relief, Draco leaned closer, swinging his legs up on the bed next to her and looping both his arms around her petite trembling frame.

He pulled her into his chest, only then noticing that he wore nothing but green and black plaid pyjama bottoms. Only realising as his skin slipped against hers that she wore a thin cotton nightdress with spaghetti straps. Draco clenched his eyes closed as he held her to him, trying not to think about the last time her bared flesh had been pressed so intimately against his own, and hating himself in that moment to know he was thinking lecherous thoughts when he was meant to be comforting the distressed witch.

He didn't offer any kind words to her; honestly, he wasn't sure he knew any. He simply pulled her to him and held her until she stopped sobbing, though she continued to tremble. When she shuffled around slightly in his hold, Draco realised she meant to try to get back to sleep. Should he leave? Draco eyed her through the dark, having dulled the light from his wand once more. She shuffled around until she was lying on her side, her hand gripping the back of his forearm and holding it across her body securely.

Suspecting that was her subtle way of telling him not to leave without wanting to sacrifice her pride for the sake of actually begging him not to leave her alone, Draco twisted around slightly until he could slide under the covers with her. She let out a slow, shuddering breath when he pulled her across the satin sheets until her back was flush against his front. Draco kept his thoughts and opinions to himself, being sure to will away the stirrings in his pants that suggested this would be a perfect opportunity to find out if she was still as nimble as he recalled her being the first time he'd shagged her, more than five years ago.

He held her like that, cuddled to his chest and snug against him until her trembling stopped and her breath evened out once more to the slow, rhythmic puff of slumber. He felt a strange little twist of something inside of him to know that despite the nightmare he didn't doubt she'd had, and the role he played in that nightmare, she felt safe enough and secure enough in his arms to fall asleep. Smirking to himself in the dark, Draco pulled the little witch just a tiny bit closer before he closed his eyes, willing himself back to sleep.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Hermione Granger awoke slowly to the knowledge of three things. The first was that she was not at all alone in bed. The second was that her son was sitting beside her under the covers, his legs twisted into a pretzel as he stared at something over her shoulder. The third was that something hot and hard was prodding at her backside and for the first time in a long time, Hermione Granger didn't feel irritated at being woken to such a thing.

"Etamin?" Hermione asked, blinking sleepily at her son.

"Good morning, Mummy," Etamin smiled, turning his grey eyes to her face for a moment and beaming brilliantly at her.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" Hermione asked the boy, trying to understand what he was looking at even as he reached out and began toying with some of her curls where they fanned across the pillows towards him.

"Shhhh, Mummy," Etamin whispered. "You'll wake up Daddy."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at the boy, wondering when on Earth he'd started caring about waking Ron, before the previous day's events came rushing back to her. Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was the man that Etamin now referred to as 'Daddy'. Draco Malfoy was the person she'd run to when Ron had cheated on her and chased her from their house and Harry's house, too.

Twisting slightly in the bed, Hermione learned that Draco Malfoy was also the man currently spooning her. His eyes were closed, his brow smooth, his platinum blond fringe – so like her son's – hanging over his face slightly as he slept. Hermione couldn't help but notice how handsome and how peaceful he looked in slumber. He spooned her snugly, one arm flung out across the bed beneath her neck, the other curled over her hip and holding her securely. Hermione glanced down at her chest and noticed that he'd insinuated his hand between her breasts, cupping one of them. Indeed, he'd slipped it inside her nightdress and was touching her, flesh on flesh.

Hermione hated herself just a little bit for the fact that the sight and the feel of him touching her so intimately, combined with the feel of his morning erection prodding her arse, made her kind of wish Etamin was still in his room and asleep so she could find out just how much of what she remembered from her evening spent shagging Draco Malfoy was fantasy and how much of it was reality.

Sweet Circe, where had _that_ thought come from?

Blushing pink, Hermione turned to face forward once more and looked up at her son.

"What time is it, darling?" Hermione asked of the small boy.

"Almost seven," Etamin told her in a whisper, consulting his watch before grinning at her. "Want to sleep some more?"

"Yes," Hermione admitted. "Would you like to sleep some more too, sweetheart?"

"Can I climb in with you and Daddy?" Etamin wanted to know.

"Of course you can, Etamin," Hermione smiled at him before peeling back the covers enough to make room for the small boy, a carbon copy of his father.

Etamin dived in next to her, shuffling around until he was the littlest spoon. Hermione chuckled softly to herself before peeling Malfoy's hand from where he still cupped her breast and looping it over their son, allowing Etamin to slide back against her even more snugly.

"Mmfph," Malfoy grumbled, and Hermione froze, expecting that he must be waking up.

Etamin froze too, before he giggled very softly when Malfoy pulled both of them back towards him even closer, cuddling them both to him. Hermione was a little ashamed of the flutter inside her chest and the warm feeling of happiness and acceptance that flooded her at his subconscious actions.

"I love you, Etamin," Hermione told her son, cuddling him close and pressing a kiss to the top of his head rather than focusing on the alarming feelings.

"I love you too, Mummy," Etamin told her. "More than anything else in the whole wide world."

"Even more than your books?" Hermione asked, realising he wanted to play a game they often played.

"Even more than a million red Skittles," Etamin told her.

"Even more than all your Quidditch figurines?" Hermione smiled, knowing she was unlikely to get back to sleep until he drifted off again, or more than likely, until he got wriggly enough that they'd all have to get out of bed.

"I love you even more than a trillion puppies, Mummy," Etamin assured her.

Hermione opened her mouth to continue the game but Etamin spoke again before she could.

"Mummy? Do you think Daddy loves me too?"

Hermione felt her heart squeeze.

"I'm sure he does, darling," Hermione answered softly.

"More than a million dragons?" Etamin wanted to know.

"More than trillion sticky date puddings," Draco's sleep husky voice spoke from behind her and Hermione jumped to realise he was awake.

"Daddy?" Etamin grinned, twisting to peer at him over Hermione's shoulder.

"Morning, kid," Draco greeted him without lifting his head. "Awful loud for such an early hour."

"Sorry Daddy, I didn't mean to wake you," Etamin apologised even though he was squiggling with delight like an excitable puppy.

"S'alright," Malfoy mumbled sleepily.

Hermione chuckled to herself over his obvious discomfort at being awake so early.

"Mummy?" Etamin whispered.

"What is it, Etamin?" Hermione sighed, very much aware of Malfoy's arousal pressed against her bum, her cheeks beginning to flame.

"Can we keep Daddy forever?" Etamin asked quietly. "He loves me more than D... Ron did."

Hermione's heart clenched inside her chest at his words. She opened her mouth, intent on answering his question before realising that she didn't really know how to answer him. Turning her head, Hermione glanced at Malfoy, who opened one eye to meet her gaze. He looked tired, Hermione noted, tired and maybe a bit curious about how she would answer the question as well.

"If you want to, darling," Hermione told the little boy curled into her arms.

Malfoy's smirk was far less annoying and far more appealing when he was half-asleep, Hermione decided when she spotted it. His arm beneath her neck twitched slightly before he reached around to tap Etamin lightly on the end of his nose.

"I'm not going anywhere, Etamin," Draco murmured. "You're stuck with me for life."

Etamin let out a loud whoop, both of his hands air-punching in triumph while both of his parents groaned at the noise.

"Not so loud, Etamin," Hermione grumbled while Malfoy began to chuckle at the boy's delight.

"Sorry," Etamin whispered. "Hey Daddy? You want to dream about dragons with me?"

Malfoy snorted.

"Sure. You go first, yeah?" Draco replied his arm tightening around the pair of them once more.

"Ok," Etamin murmured, sounding sleepy himself.

Hermione closed her eyes once more as Etamin's breathing slowed, his mind obviously transporting him away to a land of dragons and pirates and sword fights. She laid there awake, wondering if Malfoy had fallen asleep behind her.

"Granger?" he asked after almost fifteen minutes of silence when Etamin let out a soft, snuffling sort of snore.

"Hmm?" Hermione hummed very softly in reply.

"Does he wake you up like this every morning?" Malfoy asked.

Hermione nodded her head slowly. "Sometimes in the middle of the night, too."

Malfoy snorted. He was quiet for a little while longer after that and Hermione drifted. She was almost asleep before he spoke again.

"On a scale of one to ten," he began, lifting his head to press his lips to her ear, his chin propped on her shoulder as he peered sleepily at their son. "How likely is it that you'll let me sleep in bed with you every night so I don't miss it?"

Hermione blinked her eyes open slowly, noting that he glanced at her before looking back at Etamin, his expression softening as he watched Etamin twitch slightly in his sleep. She bit her lip, realising that he was obviously new to the idea of sleeping next to anyone not some naked witch he'd ravished, and that he currently loved the idea of being woken at all hours by their son when he wanted to climb in and cuddle. She thought about it carefully for a minute.

"Probably a three if you're going to keep poking me," she found herself saying when he moved slightly to better see Etamin, his hard cock prodding her bum insistently.

He glanced at her for a moment, before one of those wicked smirks he was so known for crossed his face. Hermione didn't for a second trust that smirk. Not when he looked very much like he planned to crawl into bed with her until he realised how little sleep he would sometimes get if he had a five year old climbing into bed with him all the time. She narrowed her eyes on him slightly when he leaned forward slightly.

"I know it's bigger than what you're used to," he smirked, his face mere inches from hers. "But you'll get used to it, witch."

Hermione opened her mouth, intent on telling him she would be doing no such thing.

"Don't argue, Granger," he grinned mischievously. "You'll wake the perfect thing we did."

He nodded his head at Etamin.

"Just get used to me," he murmured softly before leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek that shocked her into silence and made her heart skip a beat.

He laid his head back down on the pillow behind her and pushed up a little more snugly behind her, purposely grinding his erection against her bum and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"If you teach him all your bad habits, Draco Malfoy, I'm going to smack you," Hermione threatened.

"I'll get you a paddle," he promised sleepily, chuckling very softly. "Now let me sleep, woman."

Shaking her head, Hermione closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift off once more, feeling entirely too comfortable in his arms.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

When Draco didn't join her and Lucius for breakfast, Narcissa Malfoy went in search of her son. Her heels clicked softly on the marble floors as she made a beeline to Draco's wing of the Manor. She frowned when she noticed that his bedroom door was open, peering inside and finding her son nowhere to be found. Miss Granger's bedroom door was similarly ajar and despite the good manners she'd had drummed into her since birth, Narcissa frowned slightly before peeking her head into the young witch's room.

She found three people snuggled into the large bed within the room and Narcissa felt a pleased smirk crawl across her crimson-painted lips. There, lying spooned around Miss Granger and Etamin, lay Draco. Fast asleep, his expression was peaceful, one arm flung across the bed beneath Hermione's neck, the other looped over the witch and the young son of the couple. Tiptoeing closer, Narcissa noticed that Hermione also had her arm curled around her son, her free arm lying beside Draco's across the bed. Narcissa's smirk grew when the noticed that Draco's fingers were intertwined with those of the witch.

And laying there enshrouded in the embrace of both of his parents lay Narcissa's grandson. Her heart clenched inside her chest at the very sight of the boy. Identical to Draco as a boy, there could be no doubt of his parentage. She felt an ache she recognised as love forming inside her chest as she stared at him, mournful that she had already missed so much of his young life. He was everything she'd ever hoped for. Proof that the Malfoy and Black bloodlines would continue, a grandchild to love and ply with sweets and affection, a continuation of her own darling boy's good looks and brilliance.

She yearned to wake him, to get to know him better, to cuddle him to her chest and never let him go. But she wouldn't. Not yet. Not until he would be comfortable with such affection. Not until he grew to trust her and knew he could come to her for anything in the world.

As she stared at the young boy, she found herself recalling Draco and Hermione's comments about Mr Weasley letting on that he didn't love the boy as his own, despite having claimed him. Rage built inside her chest at the very idea of anyone not treating the boy like the prince he was, but she tamped it down. It was not her place to annihilate Ronald Weasley. No, she would leave that the Draco and Theodore, and perhaps Lucius, if things got messy. No, Narcissa had far more pressing matters to attend to, the foremost being that she would need to send a basket of flowers to Astoria Greengrass in thanks for choosing to act like a trollop, seducing young Mr Weasley, thus driving Miss Granger and her son to Malfoy Manor.

Indeed, Narcissa was very much aware that she needed to handle a lot of things, but that one would be a priority.

That, and playing match-maker to the couple currently spooning in the bed before her. It wouldn't be easy. Sharing a child and co-parenting or not, they were two very different people. Draco, she knew, was cold, calculating and utterly uninterested in making any kind of commitment to anything longer than a one-night stand. He enjoyed having his freedom and he didn't like the idea of having anything or anyone too important in his life that could be used to hurt him. Indeed, until last night, Narcissa had been sure that the only people Draco cared about were her and Lucius.

Miss Granger, by comparison, was a polar opposite. Brainy and driven, she'd been working her way up through the ranks of the Ministry despite her young son. She would go far in their world, no matter her blood status. She tilted at windmills; she ruthlessly weeded out discrimination wherever she found it and she would not easily be swayed to the idea of marrying Draco just because they shared a child. She knew nothing of the pureblood and social elite games and nuances, and she would undoubtedly cause a good stir amid the world that Narcissa so enjoyed dominating.

The trick would be convincing them to look past a lifetime of dislike for one another not merely to effectively raise their son, but also to see that the other was not someone to be despised or disdained. How Narcissa was going to convince them to be a couple, she had no idea right then, but the sight of them spooned together in the same bed with their child was a good start. Having them share the Manor and Draco's wing of it would further ensure they were forced to interact. Narcissa narrowed her eyes on her son for a moment, realising that not only was she going to have to convince him to stop being such a rake, she was going to have to prevent him from seeing Miss Granger as an outlet for the sexual tension that abstaining would undoubtedly cause. The last thing she needed was their relationship even more complicated by having meaningless sex. It might bring them together in the physical sense, but with Miss Granger suddenly plunged into the mess of a divorce, she did not need the witch using her son as her rebound. No, when they came together as a couple it would need to be because they fancied each other, no matter Narcissa's meddling, and not because she was hurt over her ex-husband's actions or because Draco couldn't keep his fly zipped.

"Zippy?" Narcissa asked quietly, watching the elf appear beside her.

"Mistress?" Zippy asked, awaiting instructions.

"Bring me my camera," Narcissa commanded of the elf.

She tiptoed to the end of the end while the elf disappeared and returned with the requested item in tow. Narcissa smiled to herself as she aimed it at the trio in the bed and snapped a photograph of them just as Etamin twitched in his sleep, one of his hands reaching out and tangling into his mother's riotous curls. While the photograph developed, Narcissa rounded the bed and took another picture of the small family, all spooned together. When she was finished, she tip-toed back out of the room, deciding that waking them could wait a little longer. Francois wasn't due until ten; Rita and Silvia not until three. They had plenty of time for a lie in if it meant they were all together and bonding amid their sleep.


	14. 14: Heart by Heart

**Edited: 12/8/17**

* * *

 **Better Dig Two**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 14: Heart by Heart**

* * *

Draco Malfoy woke up with someone sitting on his face. Not in a way he was accustomed to, either. Bony knees knocked against his chin while small hands pulled at his hair and patted his cheeks. Groaning, Draco blinked his eyes open to stare at a miniature version of himself.

"Daddy, I'm hungry," Etamin Antares Malfoy informed him when Draco blinked at him.

"You're sitting on me," Draco replied.

"You were sleeping," Etamin nodded. "And I thought you'd like it if I was the first thing you saw when you woke up."

In spite of his foul mood at being awoken at all, the childish innocence of his son's statement caused a chuckle to bubble up inside Draco's chest.

"Do you do this to your mother, too?" Draco asked. He was still laughing while Etamin smirked at him.

"Sometimes," Etamin nodded. "Other times Mummy wakes me up with kisses on my cheeks, like this."

Draco blinked, rather startled when the boy leaned closer and peppered kisses across his cheeks, nose and forehead.

"Etamin?" Granger's sleep-thick voice asked in confusion when the boy knocked the witch with his knees in order to kiss Draco's face.

"Good morning, Mummy!" Etamin giggled. He leaned away from Draco's face to pepper his mother's face with kisses as well.

Draco looked sideways to find that sometime while they'd slept, he'd rolled to his back and the witch had cuddled into his side, pillowing her cheek on his arm. Granger laughed at the affection from Etamin.

"Good morning, darling," she said, snatching the small boy and pulling him to her, wrestling him into a cuddle. "Did I just find you sitting on Daddy's face?"

Etamin giggled in reply when Granger started to tickle him.

"Mummy! I only did it so I'd be the first thing Daddy saw when he woke up!"

The small boy wriggled and writhed in her hold while she tickled him. Draco looked on, wondering how they both expressed such easy affection. His parents might adore him the way Granger adored Etamin, but he couldn't recall ever being tickled like that.

"I'm sure Daddy loves being woken that way. You should wake him like that _every_ morning, Etamin," Granger told him and Draco narrowed his eyes on her. She'd told him the chances of him crawling into bed with her every night were low, but now it looked like she might allow it as long as Etamin woke him every morning. Given that he wasn't a morning person, Draco smelled a rat.

"Do you think so?"

"Of course, darling. I love seeing you first thing in the morning when you're so fully of energy and so happy. I'm sure Daddy would much rather be greeted by your happy face than be allowed to keep sleeping."

"You've no concept of my temper if you believe that, witch," Draco informed her, curling his free arm behind his head and watching the curly haired woman tickle his son.

"Don't listen to him, darling. He'd never be angry with you for waking him, I'm sure."

"I don't know, Mummy. He could get cranky. I get cranky sometimes."

"Of that, sweetheart, I am _well_ aware. What time is it?"

Etamin stopped squirming when Granger stopped tickling him, consulting his wrist-watch.

"Nine-thirty," he informed them.

"Ah, shoot!" Draco groaned.

"What's wrong?" Granger asked, twisting to look at him whilst lifting Etamin until he sat straddling Draco's stomach. The boy began tracing his fingers over the faint white scar from the duel he'd had with Potter so long ago.

"My mother is about to burst in on all of us and drag you off to meet Francios. In order to handle this situation delicately, she has arranged to have Rita Skeeter and Silvia Devereaux stop by this afternoon for tea."

"She wants to break the story to the papers before Ron can run his mouth," Granger sighed. "Why do I get the feeling that Francios is some terrible man who's going to pull my hair and tell me I need to lose five pounds?"

Draco snorted.

"Because you're clairvoyant? Only he'll probably suggest you lose ten pounds, try to cut you hair up to here," he pointed to her chin, "and probably also insist that he's never seen worse nails on a woman in all his life."

"Delightful," Granger grumbled. "Will he be wanting to whip Etamin into shape, too?"

"Oh, yeah. And me. But I'm going to be meeting with my lawyer. Shit, he's probably already here, actually."

"Do you want to take Etamin with you?" Granger asked quietly, frowning. "I don't want to expose him to the likes of Rita and Silvia. They're vicious and they'll ask him questions he won't answer diplomatically."

"I can be diplomatic!" Etamin protested.

"I know you can, sweetheart, but these witches are horrible. They twist your words and confuse you by talking too fast about things that don't matter. Wouldn't you prefer to go with Daddy to find out about being a lawyer?"

Etamin looked thoughtful.

"You should know who my lawyer is before you suggest that, witch," Draco warned the curly haired swot.

"Who?"

"Theo."

"Theodore Nott? Oh, bollocks. I don't want Etamin exposed to him. He's probably the most ruthless lawyer in the business. I often end up in screaming matches with him when he pulls legislation out of his arse and blocks the amendments and abolitions I try to push through pertaining to magical creatures and their land rights."

"I know. We often laugh about it over drinks," Draco smirked at her. Granger swatted him in annoyance. "But it will do the boy good. He can bring his dictionary and look up all Theo's big words."

"You don't mind taking him with you?" Hermione confirmed.

"He's my kid, Granger. And I'm not about to expose him to the likes of Skeeter if I don't have to."

"Won't you be required at the tea?"

"Oh, no." Draco shook his head with a smirk. "No, Mother will spin that to portray you as a victim of Weasley's abuse and ensure that you're painted in a good light. Trust me, you don't want me there when Skeeter asks when and why you slept with me. You also don't want to be sitting next to one of the most notorious rakes in the wizarding world. They'll ask you how long you've been having an affair with me and whether or not you concealed Etamin's existence from me on purpose for fear of my reaction to his blood status and otherwise try to convince you that I'm the last person you want helping you raise Etamin."

"I know they're wretched but they're hardly going to discourage me from allowing the father of my child to help raise him," Granger frowned at him as she climbed out of bed and crossed into Etamin's bedroom. "Etamin, darling come and wash your face and brush your teeth. You need to get dressed for your day with Daddy."

Draco shook his head as he scooped the boy from his chest and carried him into the kid's bedroom. Etamin seemed to have taken a liking to his hair because he kept running his fingers through it and pulling it gently.

"Your hair is just like mine, Daddy."

"It is," Draco agreed. "That's how we know you're my kid."

Etamin blinked at him for a moment.

"I like you," he said before leaning over and pressing his lips to Draco's cheek.

Draco raised one eyebrow at Granger when he walked into Etamin's bathroom where she was wringing out a face-cloth. She shot him a smirk over his obviously startled reaction to Etamin's easy affection.

"I like you too, Etamin," Draco said.

"This morning you said you loved me," Etamin pointed out. "Even more than a trillion Sticky-Date Puddings."

"I did," Draco agreed, lowering the boy to stand on his own two feet and watching him dash over to Granger. He accepted the face towel and scrubbed it over his small face until it was tinted lightly pink from his vigour.

"Do you still?" Etamin asked when Granger handed him his toothbrush.

"Of course I do," Draco said. "I'm just rubbish at admitting it out loud."

"Why?"

Granger was openly grinning now, obviously enjoying his discomfort. It was clear to him that she understood, all too well, why he had a hard time admitting his emotions to anyone.

"Daddy was raised to be uptight and unfeeling, Etamin. His mother and father are both well-to-do people who discouraged open displays of affection that might look bad in the eyes of the world."

"They're snobs?" Etamin surmised and Draco's eyes widened.

"They're snobs, sweetheart," Granger agreed. She carded her fingers through the boy's thick hair, wandlessly and non-verbally styling it to lie flat and neat.

"Will they be snobs to me?" Etamin asked.

"I'm sure that if you show them how affectionate you are, your grandparents will soften immediately, darling. Especially your grandmother. You look just like Daddy did when he was your age, so she's already conditioned to love anyone who looks like you."

"The lady from dinner last night?" Etamin asked.

"That's the one. Her name is Narcissa but you should call her 'Grandmother' or 'Gran'."

"Grandmother," Draco intoned. "They're stuffy about titles."

"All the more reason for him to call her 'Gran'," Granger smirked at him in the mirror, obviously liking the idea of annoying his parents today.

"What happened to worrying about being a nuisance?" Draco asked, still shirtless as he followed Etamin back out into the bedroom where the boy began raiding his closet for something to wear.

"Today I'm more concerned about being flayed alive by reporters," Hermione admitted. "What are we supposed to tell them? If we lie and say we knew you were his father, you look bad and I look like a conniving wench for marrying Ron under false pretences. But if I admit that I slept with you and didn't bother to learn your identity, it makes me look like a tart."

"You are a tart," Draco teased.

Granger swatted his arm hard enough to sting.

"Oi! I'm just calling it like I see it, little Miss Can-Put-My-Feet-Behind-My-Head."

Granger's eyes widened at his causal mention of the night they'd spent revelling in each other so long ago, and her cheeks bloomed pink.

"Malfoy!" she hissed, making a face at him that suggested she didn't like to discuss what they'd done to one another or how flexible he recalled her being. "Etamin, sweetheart, you can't wear your superman cape to meet Daddy's lawyers. You want to look nice and respectable, like Daddy does."

Draco smirked at the unintentional compliment. At least, he did until Etamin looked over at him from the closet, ripped his shirt off and proceeded to declare himself ready for the day.

"Oh, for goodness sake," Granger grumbled. "Malfoy, get out of here and get dressed properly, would you? Before you blind someone."

"Don't think I haven't caught you perving on me, Granger," Draco smirked in return. "Etamin, put these things on, kid."

He flicked his wand and levitated some robes from within the closet. Etamin eyed them carefully.

"But these are some of my fancy robes," the boy protested. "You're not even wearing a shirt. Why do I have to dress so nice?"

Draco glanced at Granger and noticed that she was cringing, ever so slightly.

"You'll be meeting some new people today, Etamin. It's important to look your best when you meet someone new for the first time. It makes a better impression and they'll think more highly of you if you look good," Draco explained, recalling being told the same thing by his own father when he was a boy and hadn't wanted to wear fancy robes everywhere he went.

"Oh," said Etamin, looking thoughtful. Draco knew he was in trouble when the kid debated for a long moment, genuinely weighing the merit of the idea as though Draco _didn't_ know what was best. When he deemed the advice decent, the small boy stripped out of his pyjama pants and begin wriggling into his robes.

Slanting another look at Granger, Draco raised one eyebrow. "Are those his _best_ robes?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "He has one other set that are very formal, bought so he'd have something to wear in the event of weddings and funerals. He's only worn them once."

Draco shook his head slightly.

"I don't envy you the lecture my mother is going to give you while having him fitted for enough robes to strangle an entire herd of hippogriffs," he told her. "I have to get dressed. You should do the same."

Granger sighed, raking a hand through her unruly curls and Draco hated himself a little when the action drew his eyes to the way her night-dress pulled taut over her breasts and the way it slid up her thighs ever so slightly, revealing more of her delicate flesh to his gaze. His fingers itched with the urge to slide her out of the silk garment and re-learn every delectable line of her body. From what he recalled of it, she'd been rather exquisite the last time he'd had her naked.

Shaking his head to dislodge the thought, Draco strode out of Etamin's room and through Granger's toward his own bedroom. She followed after him, making a beeline for her closet. When he returned a few minutes later, dressed in his usual formal robes with his hair combed, he found Etamin sitting on the end of Granger's bed.

"Mummy, I liked the purple one," the boy was saying. He looked over toward the doorway when Draco appeared in it, giving him a long-suffering sigh as though he were weary and Draco raised one eyebrow. "Tell her, Daddy. She looks good in the purple one."

"Wardrobe malfunction?" Draco confirmed, striding closer to sit next to the boy, dropping on to the end of the freshly made bed and looking in the direction of the wardrobe.

He smirked when he spotted Granger inside it, dressed only in her underwear – a matching black cotton and lace set that hid everything vital but still looked fetching. She was pulling at her loose curls with one hand.

"Mummy, show Daddy the purple one!" Etamin called to the witch.

"The purple one isn't formal enough for a meeting with reporter's, Etamin. We both know you prefer me looking comfortable to professional."

Etamin looked up at Draco and rolled his eyes.

"Please tell her that she looks more professional when she _is_ comfortable because it's more elegant," Etamin begged.

Draco marvelled again at the boy's cleverness.

"Show me, Granger," Draco winked at the kid.

"No, the purple one is no good."

She was in the middle of wriggling into some sort of pant-suit and Draco rolled his eyes when she emerged.

"You're not going to work, Mummy," Etamin protested.

"You're not a muggle, either," Draco threw in, eyeing the charcoal outfit with no small amount of distaste. "You're about to appear in front of the world's wizarding elite for an interview in the privacy of your home with two of the most vicious reporter's in the industry. You're _not_ attending a business meeting in the muggle world."

"I'm trying to look professional and self-possessed," Granger argued with him, frowning fiercely.

"Well, stop," Draco retorted. "Show me the purple one."

Granger narrowed her eyes on him in annoyance before spinning on her heels and stomping back into the depths of the wardrobe. He grinned at Etamin when she ripped the clothes off and reached for the dress the boy had been insisting she wear. Draco would like to think that he was enough of a gentleman not to perve on her, but he was lying to himself. He even squinted, trying to get a decent look at her in the dimly lit closet.

"It's too casual," she insisted even as she emerged once more.

Draco raked his eyes over her from head to foot. The dress had a loose, floaty sort of skirt that fell to mid-calf, sleeves to the elbows and just enough of a cleavage line to make her look feminine without making her look like a tart.

"Do you have a pair of heels to wear with it?" he asked, licking his suddenly parched lips as he stared at her.

"Of course I do," she rolled her eyes at him. "But that's beside the point. This is hardly the type of thing I should be wearing to afternoon tea with a woman like you mother. Let alone with women like Rita and Silvia."

"Granger, if you even think about taking that dress back off, I'm going to bend you over my knee and spank you," Draco warned her. He smirked when he cheeks went scarlet.

"That's... hardly appropriate," she said, obviously flustered.

"You're wearing this. No, don't bother trying to argue further. Wear that one. You look comfortable and it lends you a sense of elegance and self-confidence that doesn't make it look like you're trying too hard. That other thing you had on made you look like you knew you were heading into battle, almost as though you thought of it like armour. _Never_ do that again. You want to look like you have the upper hand, despite that fact that you're entering into a battle of wills and pointed words with these women. You want to put them off kilter, Granger. My mother is going to have a field day refining you for the world you're about to step into, but the first lesson is to always look effortlessly good. Look at me. I'm wearing a suit, sure, but I still look casual enough to make those stiff, awkward tossers who hate suits look like bumbling penguins squawking for attention."

She eyed him doubtfully for a moment before her shoulders drooped a little.

"Fine," she sighed. "But if your mother snipes at me, I reserve the right to tell her and the reporters to stuff their wands in their ears."

Draco smirked at her pouting expression when she stomped back into the closet to fetch her shoes.

"How come she listens to you but not to me?" Etamin asked, looking slightly confused when he looked up at Draco.

"You didn't appeal to her sense of indignation by telling her she'd have the upper hand this way," Draco smiled at his son. "The trick is to think about what you want the person to do and then to say something that challenges them to do it, whilst making it sound as though you doubt their ability _to_ do it. Do you understand?"

"I think so," Etamin said, looking thoughtful. "I'll watch you some more and see how you do it, Daddy. I want to grow up to be just like you."

"Merlin, don't say that, Etamin," Granger laughed, coming back out of the closet with her heels on. They matched the dress perfectly.

"But Mummy, it's true," Etamin told her. "I want to be just like Daddy because he convinced you to do what I wanted, even when you weren't sure you should."

"You're corrupting my son," Granger complained, levelling Draco a mock-glare.

"He's _my_ son," Draco smirked in return. "Come on, we better get to breakfast before Mother comes searching for us."

Granger nodded and Etamin took Draco's hand, letting him lead them both out of the bedroom and in the direction of the centre of the house.

"When will you take me exploring, Daddy?" Etamin asked.

"Maybe later this afternoon while your mother has her interview, Etamin," Draco told him. "We'll sneak off and duel the ghoul in the dungeons while she snipes with the other ladies who want to make a big deal about that mess with Weasley from yesterday."

"Some people are so nosy," Etamin sighed, sounding world-weary beyond his years. "It's none of their business that you're my Daddy and Ron isn't. And if they're mean to Mummy, I reserve the right to kick them both in the shins and lob dungbombs into their hair when no one is looking."

Draco began to laugh at the boy's plans for revenge on his mother's behalf.

"Oh, yeah," he smirked at Granger. "He's _definitely_ my son."


	15. 15: In My Veins

**A/N: I know there was a bit of a delay there between chapters. Sorry about that. I got sidetracked. I'll try to do better. I can't wait to watch you all react to this chapter.**

 **xx-Kitten**

* * *

 **Better Dig Two**

 _By Kittenshift17_

* * *

 **Chapter 15: In My Veins**

* * *

Hermione picked at the skirt of her dress as she trailed down the hall behind Etamin and Malfoy. Absently she listened to the explanations Malfoy provided to the endless questions Etamin asked about the Manor – the purpose of so many rooms; who the people were in the portraits; whether he'd ever be able to find his way unaccompanied in such a maze of corridors and rooms. Mostly her mind was occupied with worry over the types of questions that Rita and Silvia might ask her. She hadn't been properly interrogated by reporters in a long time, if she was being honest, and certainly never about so sensitive a topic as Etamin's paternity or the state of her marriage. She might've been asked a time or two about Etamin's looks and she might've endured the occasional article in the gossip column that focused on her love life, but ever since she and Ron had been married things had settled. The most she'd put up with over the past five years had been the types of _Where Are They Now?_ Pieces that filled out the pages of a newspaper but didn't actually garner that much attention.

To think that she would shortly be being interrogated and judged as she fought to keep her composure whilst discussing her imminent divorce made Hermione's hands tremble with nerves.

Her cheeks flushed pink as she recalled that in spite of their spat and Ron's infidelity, she'd woken being spooned by Draco and, dare she say, she'd rather liked it. She tried to squash both the thought and the feeling as it reared its ugly head. The last thing she needed was to rebound from her admittedly disastrous marriage with the father of her son. Rebound relationships _always_ fizzled and she didn't fancy the awkwardness of continuing to deal with the dirk-tongued wizard for the rest of her life whilst co-raising Etamin should they make a stupid decision and fall into bed with one another.

Again.

She didn't want to fall into bed with him _again_.

She'd already done it once and the result of that choice was skipping and chattering, holding Malfoy's hand and looking about his new home curiously. Hermione glanced warily around the room, noting the way the portraits all remained silent. Many of them looked stern, the judgment glittering in their painted eyes as surely as it would glitter in the eyes of the rest of the world. She was a tart. That's what they'd think. A silly, sloppy lush who'd gotten drunk and had sex with a man whose name she didn't bother to learn.

She'd gotten pregnant, she'd gotten married to a man not the father of her son, but certainly a man all wrong for her, and now she was paying the price. She'd been forced to turn to the Malfoys for refuge when her own friends had turned on her. Hermione could already hear Molly's cold, cruel words about leading Ron on, and how she deserved to be cheated on. She could just hear the woman's words of condemnation as she threw Hermione from their lives forever, no matter the war they'd lived through together, or the fact that Ron was the one at fault, or that she'd had nowhere else to go in the magical world.

She could see the tortured expression Harry would undoubtedly wear when he eventually caught up to her to try and make amends. She could hear the way he'd struggle to support her when Ron was his friend, too, and when his wife was a Weasley and Molly would be vicious to him too, if he didn't turn on her. The fact was that all she had left now was Etamin. Etamin and Malfoy. At least she could count on him to want to stick around. His reactions thus far when it came to their son suggested that no matter that it might cause a scandal, and no matter their differences and old enmities, he would do whatever he had to if he could remain a part of Etamin's life. Hermione supposed that while it wasn't ideal, it was certainly better than nothing.

And she didn't want to mess it up with a sloppy one night stand or anything else sexual with the man. No matter that he was Etamin's father. She might've once loathed Ron enough to fall into bed with Draco to begin with, but when she'd gotten pregnant, he'd changed. Until yesterday evening, he'd been decent enough to her. Loving, even, in the beginning, after Etamin had been born. He'd been supportive and helpful and until he'd begun nagging her for a biological child of his own with her, Hermione had fallen very much back in love with him.

To have that stripped away, no matter his despicable actions concerning her and concerning Etamin, she couldn't just forget that they'd been married for five long years and she couldn't forget the friendship they'd shared since they'd been eleven years old. She knew she would suffer when the effects of getting divorced really hit her. She knew it would be messy, because Ron could never do anything without making a mess. She knew the worst thing she could do would be to fall into Draco's arms.

And so, she kept her thoughts about how he'd looked shirtless that morning, wandering about the bedroom; and about the way it'd felt to sleep with him spooned around her, to herself.

"Ah," Lucius Malfoy drawled the minute they made an appearance in the dining room. "Finally, our guests make an appearance."

"Grandpa," Etamin grinned, waving and letting go of Draco's hand before dashing toward Lucius where he sat at the head of the table with his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ in front of him.

Hermione bit her lip when Lucius looked affronted at the less than formal address and the form of greeting Etamin used. Especially when the boy reached him, took his hand – the wrong hand for shaking – from his newspaper, and shook his hand vigorously. When Etamin followed the entire ordeal by climbing up onto the table and perching on the edge next to Lucius's teacup, grinning and swinging his legs innocently, Hermione snorted.

She had to duck behind Draco when Lucius levelled her a dark look.

"Good morning, Grandpa," Etamin said. "Did you know that there are one hundred and eighty-seven rooms in the Manor? That's what Daddy was telling me on the way here."

"What is the meaning of this?" Lucius demanded, looking past the chattering five year old and staring at Draco.

Draco was too busy peering over his shoulder at Hermione, who clutched the back of his shirt and tried desperately not to choke on her giggles.

"Did you tell him to do that?" Draco asked, apparently just as amused as she was.

Hermione shook her head. "I didn't have to. He always does this to people if he thinks they're snobs."

"Oh, dear," Draco sighed.

"Draco!" Lucius snapped.

"Good morning, Father," Draco drawled in the same manner Lucius had used. "Lovely day."

"What is the meaning of this!?" Lucius snapped, repeating himself. "Why is this boy calling me 'grandpa' and _sitting on the dining table_ like a savage?"

"You know, Grandpa, it's considered very rude in some cultures to talk about someone as though they're not in the room," Etamin said sweetly before picking up Lucius's tea-cup, sniffing at the contents, and then taking a big gulp. He purposely knocked it over when he set the cup back down, and Hermione cringed when he dragged his sleeve across his mouth to wipe away the tea-moustache left behind.

She couldn't help the peals of laughter that escaped her, no matter how hard she tried to supress them, pressing her face into Draco's back. She could feel him shaking with silent laughter as well, apparently entirely amused by how naughty his son could be when he wanted to make a nuisance of himself.

"In every culture it's considered the height of bad manners to _sit on the table_!" Lucius snapped at the boy.

"Some cultures take their meals sitting on the floor, you know?" Etamin said, as though that were relevant. "Granny!"

He jumped off the table, somehow tearing Lucius's newspaper as he went. He landed deftly on his feet before dashing over to Narcissa as she came strolling into the room to investigate the racket Lucius was making. She braced just in time to have the small boy collide with her legs, wrapping his arms around her thighs and pressing his chin to her stomach. Hermione didn't even need to look to know the expression the boy would be wearing. One of utter innocence that most often made an appearance when he wanted to be given sweets he wasn't allowed.

Hermione's parents, as dentists, didn't like to indulge the boy with sweets very often, but that look could melt the heart of a troll, she was sure. Her mother always ending up caving to his wants whenever Etamin looked at her that way and the boy usually regretted it when he was given sugar-free chocolate. She could just imagine the effect that look might have on the likes of the prim and proper Lady Malfoy of Malfoy Manor.

"Good morning, Etamin," Narcissa Malfoy greeted the boy softly, her hand lifting to smooth over his slightly tousled hair.

"You know my name?" Etamin smiled.

"Of course I do, dear," Narcissa said. "You're my only grandson, after all. I am not so old as to begin forgetting things yet, thank you very much."

"What is the meaning of this!?" Lucius demanded, spluttering in apparent shell-shock while clutching his limp and now-torn newspaper, a large tea-stain spreading across the tablecloth and his teacup tipped on its side thanks to Etamin's entrance.

Hermione had to bury her face in the back of Draco shirt, feeling the way his shoulders shook with mirth that he was doing a better job of concealing than Hermione was herself. She couldn't help it. There was just something entirely hilarious about the positively bamboozled and outraged expression on the face of the fierce ex-Death Eater as he rattled his newspaper at the small boy as though he were some bothersome sparrow that had flown in the window to upset his quiet life.

Etamin giggled only once, doing a fine job of keeping a straight face.

"Granny, I think Grandpa spilled his tea. He seems upset about something."

"He was sitting on the table, Narcissa!" Lucius exclaimed. "In less than five minutes the tiny savage as shaken my left hand with his own left one, climbed up and seated himself _on the table_ , drunk from my tea cup, tipped it over, wiped his mouth on his sleeve _and_ had the audacity to call _me_ rude when I demanded explanation from our son! And now he's torn my newspaper. I won't stand for it!"

Hermione's shriek of positive glee broke the silence that followed, Lucius huffing and puffing with fury and pompous snark. Etamin giggled a second time, unable to completely hide his own mirth while Hermione was laughing so very hard. She was certain that were she not clutching the back of Draco's shirt for dear life, she'd have fallen to the floor and would be pounding her hands upon the smooth marble surface in her glee.

She'd never seen such a pompous man throwing such a tantrum over the antics of such a little boy and Hermione just knew that Etamin was going to keep playing with the man every chance he got until Lucius learned that reacting to his bad manners with anything but a stern reprimand or an indulgent smile would only push the boy to keep doing it.

"Is there breakfast, Granny?" Etmain asked innocently. "I'm hungry. Grandpa was being a grumpy sod and didn't want to share with me. Did you know there are one hundred and eighty-seven rooms in the Manor? Daddy was just telling me, before Grandpa started huffing and puffing like a dragon going to breathe fire, you know. I do hope he hasn't contracted Dragon Pox. Someone my age would be susceptible. Can I have porridge? And maybe some eggs. Mummy always makes me bacon and eggs and arranges them into the shape of a smiley face. Do you think the elves would make me some breakfast like that? Can I have my own cup of tea? Grandpa spilled his. Probably another sign of a Dragon Pox infection. Mummy said that loss of fine motor skills and clumsiness are some of the symptoms. Maybe he needs to get tested. Can I have cream with my porridge?"

He continued to chatter and Hermione couldn't catch her breath when Lucius spluttered every time Etamin referred to him as 'Grandpa', rather than the proper title of Grandfather. Narcissa's left eye twitched every time the boy called her Granny, too. The sight of the pair of them, obviously not yet mentally prepared for the raging energy and incessant chatter of a child in their midst, was enough to make Hermione want to wet her pants with laughter.

Draco was barely managing to conceal his own laughter, having cleared his throat several times, but losing it again every time Lucius huffed.

"He's definitely my son," Draco choked out when Etamin released Narcissa – after very conspicuously wiping his nose on the front of her dress like a tiny urchin, making Narcissa's fond and concerned expression disappear in favour of a scowl of disgust.

"Daddy? Etamin asked, dashing back over to Draco and tugging on the front of his jacket.

"Yes, Etamin?" Draco asked, his tone coloured with amusement.

"I think Gramps has Dragon Pox," Etamin declared. "We should make him see a healer. Can I have porridge?"

Draco shook his head fondly.

"Of course, you can. Why don't you sit down at the table and we'll all have some breakfast?"

"Gramps already ate without us," Etamin sighed sadly. "It's very bad manners to eat without waiting for guests, you know?"

"It is," Draco agreed, chuckling this time when Lucius spluttered.

"It's bad manners to _sit on the table_! And wipe your mouth on your clothes. And wipe your nose on someone's clothing. Cissy, the boy is a menace! A complete savage. He can't be biologically related to us."

"Mummy, these people have no manners," Etamin declared, suddenly straightening his shirt and throwing his shoulders back, sticking his nose in the air and looking every bit the pompous prince of a Malfoy son he was.

Hermione's laughter filled the silence that followed as all three Malfoy's watch the little boy tug his robes back into their appropriate place before he very primly seated himself at the table, laid his napkin over his lap and folded his hands, waiting silently to be served like a little lordling.

"Bloody hell," Draco muttered as Hermione finally released him and moved over to sit beside the small boy.

"Here be your porridge, Master Etamin," the elves appeared, rushing forth with porridge and brown sugar and cream and some bacon and eggs, only too happy to serve the boy.

Etamin smiled and politely thanked them, making all the elves stammer and stutter and flap their ears in distress at being thanked for their service. And then he waited. Despite his claims of hunger, the small boy waited politely for his mother and father to be seated and served before he so much as picked up his spoon.

"Demon child!" Lucius could be heard muttering, watching the small boy as though he were a cauldron that might explode at any moment. "I'm telling you Cissy, I won't stand for it."

"Father?" Draco asked mildly after swallowing his first mouthful. "What are you plans today?"

Lucius narrowed his eyes on his son before darting a glance at his grandson.

"If you have delusions of me baby-sitting, allow me to rid you of them this minute, Draco," Lucius sneered and Etamin set down his spoon, fixing a puppy-dog look at his grandfather.

"Don't you want to spend the day with me, Grandpa?" he asked, his little voice so full of hurt that it'd have broken Hermione's heart if she didn't know he was only wheedling to guilt Lucius into spending time with him.

"I don't associate with savages," Lucius informed the boy coldly and Hermione narrowed her eyes. She opened her mouth to defend the child and to remind Lucius to mind his tongue, but Etamin beat her to it.

"Funny, Mummy used to tell stories of the savages you associated with before I was born," he said evenly, staring his grandfather down and Hermione suspected that Lucius, Narcissa and even Draco were shocked speechless.

Lucius even paled a little at the defiance of the small boy.

"Sweetheart," Hermione warned Etamin quietly, knowing it would do him no good to be dredging up the past.

"I love you, Mummy," the boy said, his fierce little expression softening into one of adoration and love as he turned his grey eyes on his mother.

"I love you too, darling. Finish your breakfast, now. You'll need your strength if you're going with Daddy today."

"Strength?" Etamin frowned. "Will we be lifting things?"

"No, darling. It just takes lots of strength not to kick Daddy and his friend Theo in the shins when they get cheeky."

"I like being cheeky," Etamin grinned.

"I am very aware," Hermione said dryly. "But they're probably a bit cheekier than you and it's quite taxing to refrain from injuring them when they think they're being funny."

"Why would I refrain?" Etamin wanted to know and Hermione would swear that Narcissa's cough was concealing a giggle.

"It's impolite to kick people, darling," Hermione reminded him.

"What about hexing them?"

"Hexing is impolite too, unless they deserve it."

Etamin nodded solemnly, absorbing the information before he smiled once more.

"So, to be clear, if they deserve it, I can hex them."

"You're five! You can't hex anyone," Lucius snapped.

"I can so!" Etamin argued immediately and Hermione had to stuff a piece of toast into her mouth to keep from laughing when the little boy glared at his grandfather before twirling his littlest finger at the man threateningly.

Lucius jumped out of his chair, either in shock, outrage, or fear, Hermione couldn't be certain, but when he suddenly huffed once more and began to twitch and laugh, Hermione knew that Etamin had used a tickling jinx on his grandfather.

"Etamin," Hermione warned while Lucius bent double, clutching his side and chuckling now.

"He can do wandless magic at five?" Narcissa asked, paling.

"Only Tickling Jinxes," Hermione said. "They're his favourite. His accidental magic is varied, but he's got a good grasp on channelling his magic for Tickling Jinxes."

"I did mention that the Ministry wanted to perform some tests on him because he'd outshone the testing procedures currently in place," Draco said, though he too looked surprised by the boy's ability to purposely jinx anyone.

"Will one of you perform the counter curse before I choke on my breakfast?" Lucius demanded between fits of laughter.

Narcissa's lips twitched and she glanced at Draco before performing the charm. Hermione held her breath as Lucius straightened, his eyes glittering with malice as he glared at his grandson. She held her wand in her lap under the table, ready to use it on the wizard if he tried to harm her son.

"I won't stand for this, Cissy," Lucius snapped, his eyes darting over to his wife's face before he straightened his robes, stuck his nose in the air, and stalked out of the room like a proud peacock.

When he was gone, Etamin giggled. Hermione looked over to see the small boy pulling a pocket-notebook from his trousers before he fished a muggle biro from the same pocket and opened it to a page. At the top, he wrote his name and then he wrote 'gramps' beside it and drew a line between the names, making two columns. He put a mark in his column.

"One point to me," he declared before grinning at Hermione and putting the book away once more.

"Is he… keeping score in a battle of wits against his own grandfather?" Draco confirmed, glancing between Etamin and Hermione when Etamin returned his attention to his breakfast, munching on a strip of bacon that he picked up with his fingers, much to Nacissa's horror.

"We don't ask questions we might not like the answers to, Malfoy," Hermione replied evenly. "Have fun with him today, won't you? If he kicks Theo, please know that I will be requesting the memory for viewing in a Pensieve when you return this evening."

"You're encouraging his bad behaviour," he pointed out, though a smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't have to encourage him to be naughty or cheeky," she said, "He is, after all, your son."

She knew she was in trouble when his answering wicked grin made her think she might be in need of dry knickers.


End file.
